


Somewhere Between Nothing and Everything

by myotherlife



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crime Fighting, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 159,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myotherlife/pseuds/myotherlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Federal prosecutor Bella Swan is already standing on the precipice of a dark abyss when her world is thrown into madness. Struggling for a lifeline, the reemergence of a man she vowed never to trust again will change everything. Life and death. Love and hate. In the middle of obscurity, what is the cost of redemption?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to my new story! It's a BPOV, E/B romance (HEA), all human, crime drama, with some angsty flavor thrown into the mix. I love twists, turns, and building the suspense. So, don't expect things to be revealed all at once, or everything to be as it appears. ;)
> 
> Warnings: This story deals with themes of depression, and will include descriptions of violence.
> 
> I own nothing that has to do with the wonderful creation that is twilight. All rights belong to Stephanie Meyer. I am not associated with the franchise and no copyright infringement is intended. I am just thankful for the chance to play with the characters a bit. The original aspects of this story belong to me.
> 
> Thank you to my betas TDS88 and beautifulnightmarex for their support and help.
> 
> This is just a teaser, other chapters will be longer. I hope you enjoy it.

Somewhere Between Nothing and Everything

Prologue

_"The truth is always an abyss. One must – as in a swimming pool – dare to dive from the quivering springboard of trivial everyday experience and sink into the depths, in order to later rise again – laughing and fighting for breath – to the now doubly illuminated surface of things."_

_Franz Kafka_

* * *

A long forgotten rhyme repeats over and over in my mind as I take in the chaotic scene. The haunted and child-like voices that accompany the echoing words only add to the already unbearable pounding in my head.

_Three, six, nine_

_The goose drank wine_

_The monkey chewed tobacco on the streetcar line_

_The line, it broke_

_The monkey got choked_

_And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat._

My ears ring painfully with a high-pitched tone, and there is a strange sort of pressure all around me. Almost as if I am underwater, which makes no sense because I am standing on land. In my mind's eye, everything moves paradoxically fast and slow all at the same time. My distorted vision and hearing makes it difficult to navigate my next move. If I even have a next move.

I wish my dad were here to tell me what to do. His brilliant mind would easily calculate a solution. He was always my hero, especially after we lost my mom. He made my world better, and I take a small bit of comfort in the fact that I will probably see him soon.

Why is it that the brightest lights are the ones that always fade away too quickly?

Seeing nothing that will change my current predicament, I once again focus on the gun pointed directly at me. With everything that has happened recently, it seems fitting that I will die at the hands of someone I trusted. I almost laugh at the true irony of the situation.

For a moment, I can't help but marvel at how clearly I can see down the barrel of the gun. As if, my eyes can perceive every detail and nuance. I wonder if I will see the bullet or just the flash as it escapes the hole.

The world slows, the clock ticking one excruciating second at a time as I watch the finger wrapped around the trigger curl and tighten.

All is still.

All is quiet.

_BANG!_


	2. Chapter 1: Chill in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! For anyone following me from HOD, thank you for being willing to go on another journey. I hope you enjoy the ride.
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who helped me to get my head wrapped around the best way to start this. LostIn PA is amazing and helped to re-work long and awkward sentences. Beautifulnightmarex generously read this several times, and TDS88, not only read it a couple of times, but also gave it one final look. All of their support was invaluable. However, I have a bad habit of tweaking things before posting, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I own nothing, but the original plot points belong to me.
> 
> Okay, let the games begin...

Chapter One: Chill in the Air

_"No one can tell what goes in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't."_

_Steven King_

* * *

_Before…_

Standing on the front stoop, my body shakes in frustration as the dreaded echo of grinding metal fills the night air around me. Of course, tonight of all nights, the key has decided to jam, hindering my ability to lock the front door and leave.

"Son of a bitch!"

The noise is an irritating reminder to replace the lock, and I can't help but berate myself for not having done it sooner. Even with my constantly spinning mind, I usually pride myself on being an organized person. Recently though, the daunting list of tasks to complete has almost become overwhelming. I should just stop procrastinating, and replace the uncooperative thing before I end up smashing it with a sledgehammer. Yet, somehow, the minimal task feels insurmountable.

"Stop being ridiculous, it's just a fucking lock."

Deep down, I know my "forgetfulness" is an exercise in avoidance. Once, I had a partner to help with such undertakings. Changing the lock will force me to face the hollow feelings I've successfully circumvented thus far. In all honesty, I'm just not ready for that.

_"You're stronger than this, Bells. Things don't have to be this difficult."_ My father's voice drifts into my scattered thoughts. Robotically, I push it away and focus my irritation on the tangible object in front of me.

"God damn it," I mutter, wrestling with the key.

My shoulders tighten as I jiggle it harder, fighting the childish desire to scream and stomp my feet in defeat when it refuses to cooperate. Realizing that my approach is getting me nowhere, I release my frustrated grip on the knob and take a calming breath. Exhaling loudly, I _finally_ manipulate the key into place and turn the lock without too much more of a hassle. Stuffing the key into my pocket, I close my eyes and hope that this latest debacle is not a sign of the night to come.

On the back-end of several horrible months, this week has particularly sucked. My computer crashed, I was late submitting a brief, lost an important argument in court, and to top it all off, it was my turn as "Officer of the Week", which equates to endless annoying phone calls. My intention was to put this crappy week behind me by spending a quiet weekend at home preparing for a crucial meeting. But, after reading the same sentence ten times in a row and still not remembering what it said, I decided to take my friends up on their offer to attend a concert instead.

Unconsciously, I tilt my head to the sky looking for strength, but quickly stop, laughing at the pointlessness of such a gesture. "You're a fool," I mutter reminding myself that I don't believe in a higher power anymore.

A loud crunching sound from the nearby hedge swiftly draws my attention away from the morose thought. Swinging around, I look for the source of the noise, but unfortunately, the height of the hedge makes it difficult to see anything on the other side. Hearing it again, I peer into the darkness trying to identify the shadows on the sidewalk.

"Hello?" I call out, listening closely for any other sounds.

Standing quietly for several uneventful seconds, I decide that my overtaxed mind is just playing tricks on me. It was probably a mouse or a squirrel moving through the branches of the hedge and nothing more. Scoffing at my overactive imagination, I hastily adjust my scarf and decide to get going.

Walking briskly along the street, the sensations of the city envelop me. I revel in the way the damp night air feels as it caresses my skin, and enjoy the aromas wafting out of the various restaurants as I pass them by. The fog rolling in from the bay gives the street lamps a muted, almost ghostly glow, lighting my way through the encroaching darkness. While the sounds of the far off car horns and sirens are almost comforting in their normalcy, a constant that rarely changes.

I love San Francisco. Even though I've enjoyed living in several different cities, I knew this was my home as soon as I stepped foot on the well-traveled cement of Union Square. The organic, earthy energy of it seems to soothe my soul, like listening to smooth jazz on a warm summer's day. Even on my most stressful days, that energy usually helps to ground me.

Tonight, however, the city is no match for my frenzied state of mind. As I turn the corner towards the Fillmore, instead of the calming feelings that usually embrace me, my muscles painfully clench when images of abandoned paperwork on my dining room table, and legal documents left unopened bombard my thoughts. Rationally, I know taking a break will make me more effective, but somehow that knowledge doesn't quiet the voice telling me to go back home.

Stopping abruptly on the sidewalk, I contemplate just turning around. My actions unintentionally cause a traffic jam for the people walking behind me, and several grumble their annoyance as they pass by. Barely registering their discontent, my eyes drift to a group of six friends walking across the street. Almost bouncing with light steps, they laugh and playfully nudge each other. The happiness I see reflected on their faces helps to determine my path. I want to feel that again. Biting my lip, I gather my courage and force myself to keep moving forward.

A tiny smile breaks free when I think about how my friends will react when they see me. My arrival will shock them. Lately, their invitations, although continuous, are simply a loving gesture. Months of turning them down or finding excuses to cancel at the last minute have left them expecting me not to show up anymore. I love them, but it is often easier to evade their good intentions of trying to fix the broken pieces of my life.

"Work and avoid" is a constant theme running through my life these days. Probably not the mantra you would find on a motivational poster, but for now it is the only thing that keeps me going. Life has shown me that I can't rely on other people to make me whole. I have to do that all on my own.

* * *

_"It's definitely a nice neighborhood. You sure you can afford this swanky townhouse on your newbie salary?" he asks with a sarcastic smile._

_After looking for a more permanent home over the last several months, I finally found the perfect place in the Lower Pacific Heights neighborhood. It has all the features I want including being close to work, but the area makes it a pricey choice. His benign question embarrasses me. Most people don't know about my financial background._

_"I, uh, still have my mom's insurance money. It will actually cover most of it." I look down at my shoes nervously. He knows my mom died when I was eleven, but we haven't really spoken about it in much detail._

_His finger glides under my chin to lift my eyes to his. They are burning with sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"Oh no, I'm okay." I say quickly realizing he mistook my embarrassment for sadness. I will always miss my mom, but time and my dad have helped me to move past the pain of her death. "It's just not something I discuss often." Smiling reassuringly, I grab his hand intertwining his fingers with mine. "Want to help me look for furniture?" I ask changing to a breezier topic._

_Lifting our hands, he lightly kisses my knuckles. "Lead on, Ms. Swan, but if you're going to ask me to help you move, you should know that I charge by the hour," he jokes._

_"Oh really?" Reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss his mouth briefly, I ghost my hand down his chest, his breath predictably hitching as I travel closer to his belt and slightly tug on it. "I think we can probably work something out, don't you?" I whisper seductively against his lips._

_Before he can capture my lips again, I pull away and wink, his eyes narrowing in response. Flirtatiously shrugging my shoulders at his "what the hell" look, I simply turn and lead us back to my car. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him pouting as he begrudgingly follows. He is so incredibly gorgeous, it's hard to force myself to continue walking with the way he makes my body tingle._

_It is amazing that fate brought us together. Everything I ever wanted walked right into my world the day we met, and there is no way I am taking that for granted._

* * *

"Arrgghhh!" I yell out, causing a few people walking on the sidewalk next to me to stare worriedly.

I should have expected that he would invade my head tonight. Clenching my fists, I can't help but wonder how long it will take him to fade from my consciousness. Lord knows, it is already longer than it took him to vanish from my life. The thing that really pisses me off is that his memory is coming up a lot lately. I'm never going to move forward if I allow myself to think that having _him_ here would make things easier.

_I need a drink_.

Fortuitously, the desire for alcohol occurs just as I arrive at the historic building where I can fulfill it. Weaving my way through the masses on the busy sidewalk, I pull out my pass for tonight's show. Focused on my goal of the front door, I completely miss the broad-shouldered man moving in my direction until he slams into me. The force of the collision jars my body, causing me to lose my footing, and before I can react, I fall awkwardly on my ass. The incident leaving me more stunned than hurt.

"Damn it!" I yell, trying to rub away the burning sensation in my palms, the skin slightly raw from taking the brunt of the impact. "This is just perfect."

"I'm sorry," a gruff voice says above me.

Looking up, I see dark eyes staring down. The intensity on his face does not match the sincerity he is trying to portray in his voice. He reaches out his hand to help me up, but for some reason, the usually friendly gesture causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. My instincts are screaming not to touch him. Instead of using his offered hand, I get up on my own and step away from the stranger.

"That's okay. Accidents happen," I respond, my voice tight and strained.

"The least I can do is buy you a drink or something. What do you say?" he asks pointing towards a small bar across the street. He takes a step closer, and in return, I step back.

"That's really okay. I'm already late. My friends are probably going to send out the cavalry soon," I lie with a measured laugh. I want him to believe that people know where I am.

"You sure?" he asks. I nod my head wanting to end the conversation. "Well, maybe we'll run into each other again," he says cryptically, his watchful eyes running up and down my body.

"Um, highly unlikely. Have a good night though," I say dismissively.

Turning around, I walk quickly towards the door. Subtly glancing behind, I shudder as the man continues to stare at me. I'm not sure why I'm having such a strong reaction to him, but I do know I never want to run into the creepy stranger again. A wall of heat hits me once I cross the threshold of the Fillmore, the outside chill rapidly disintegrating in the sea of humanity inside. Looking over my shoulder again, I release a breath when I no longer see the man. Shoving the strange encounter out of my mind, I focus on trying to enjoy the evening.

Moving further into the room, I uncoil my scarf and shrug out of my jacket, holding both close to my chest to squeeze past a particularly crowded area. Looking around, I feel a sense of happy nostalgia, the stress of the evening easing a bit. The old town architecture with a modern flare of indie rock decorations combined with the slight scent of Agarwood incense makes the place feel cozy and welcoming. This is one of my favorite hangouts, and it has been too long since my last visit.

Glancing to the right, I see hundreds of bodies mingling on the floor in front of the stage, and I can feel the energy building as Washed Out's roadies methodically tune each instrument. Everyone seems at ease and happy. Scanning the room, my eyes focus on several couples being affectionate with whom, I assume, are their significant others.

The sight gives me pause, stirring a longing I try to ignore. A startling flash of emerald eyes and loving arms turn my stomach to ice. The last thing I need are more unwanted memories adding to this already strained outing. Pushing the image away, I reprimand myself for allowing _him_ to affect me twice in one night.

Maneuvering over to the poster room, I quickly spot the familiar faces of my friends sitting and laughing around a small table next to a colorfully decorated wall. They are obviously enjoying the evening and each other. The visual makes me smile.

My friends have always been a big part of my life. In fact, spending time with them was my daily "therapy", but somewhere over the last the few months that has changed. Now, what was once my stress reliever, feels exhausting. It's something that I battle with every day. A part of me realizes that I'm pushing them away, and they are getting frustrated with my behavior, but I can't seem to stop doing it.

"Holy shit! Bella's here!" Jasper, my partner at work, yells across the room causing several people to turn in my direction.

Acknowledging him with a wave of my hand, I quickly walk over before he causes an even bigger scene. I lovingly refer to Jasper as my "work husband" because we tend to spend a lot of time together preparing our cases. Not to mention that we often argue like an old married couple in the office. Our close relationship is hard for many to comprehend, which is why it's a good thing that his _actual_ wife is my best friend.

Reaching the table, I walk straight into his waiting arms. "I'm so glad you made it," he whispers against my temple.

Breathing in his brotherly comfort, I squeeze tighter, feeling relaxed for the first time tonight. _Why do I run from this?_ Before I can tell him that I'm happy to see him too, I feel a smack to the back of my head.

"Hey," I huff in annoyance, turning towards the smiling face of Rosalie Hale.

Rose is the one of the brightest and toughest FBI agents I have ever met, as well as one of my closest friends. She is impeccably dressed in dark blue jeans and a green sweater with her long blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. As usual, she looks like she just walked out of a fashion magazine and I can't help but feel inferior in comparison. I pull nervously at my own worn sweater, suddenly rethinking the quick pick I made when rushing out of the house. Rose quirks her eyebrow, and I quickly neutralize my expression before she questions it. I know she would kick my ass if she knew about my self-deprecating thoughts.

"What the hell, Swan? Did hell freeze over when I wasn't looking?" she asks, eyeing me up down trying to act harsh, but failing miserably in her buzzed state as her lips break into an uncontrollable smile.

"Stuff it. Even _I_ can go out every once in a while." I smile back sweetly, purposely not reacting to her attempt at a severe tone. "What are you drinking?" I ask peering into her glass.

"Mojito. Why? Do you want one?" she questions in disbelief.

" _Yes_!" I yell a little too enthusiastically.

Rose raises her eyebrow. "Okaaay," she draws out. I'm really not much of a drinker and she knows it. I'm sure this will just add to my friends growing list of concerns. "Let me text Emmett to get you one. He's getting refills at the bar," she mutters, pulling out her phone to quickly type out a message. "He's going to flip when he hears that you're here."

Emmett McCarty is a San Francisco PD homicide detective, and Rose's long-time boyfriend. Glancing towards the bar, I can easily spot his tall and muscular body in the crowd. Emmett has always been a bit of an enigma. Although his impressive size and confident presence scares most people, he actually is nothing more than a huge heart with a warm sappy center.

" _Bella_!" I hear as a small ball of energy tackles me from the side. "You're here!" Alice, Jasper's wife, shrieks into my ear as I try to recover my balance before we both topple over.

If Jasper is my partner in crime at work, Alice is my partner in crime in life. The yin to my yang is how my dad described our friendship because even with our many differences we still somehow balance each other out.

"Hi," I say, tightening our embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here." She pulls back rewarding me with a brilliant smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," I whisper, a little overwhelmed by the truth in my statement.

"Not that I'm not _really_ glad to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were going to bury yourself in the new case all weekend," Jasper questions again.

"That was my plan, but I'm hitting a wall. So, I decided to hang out with you guys instead." Reaching forward, Jasper silently rewards my explanation with another supportive hug. He's been the most vocal about my self-imposed isolation.

"This case is a tough one, huh?" Rose asks.

"Yeah, there's a lot of information to sort through and put into place to ensure a conviction." Turning back to Jasper, I lightly punch him in the shoulder. "Tell me again why we're not doing this one together?"

"Because _I_ had to finish up the Volturi case, and if I recall correctly from when you came bouncing into my office last week, you said this is _your_ big break. The fact that Newton asked you to take the lead is huge. You wanted this remember."

"Well, I take it back. I'm beginning to think Newton gave me a no-win situation on purpose. If I fail, I'll be the scapegoat for the office. Then bonus for him, he can get rid of my ass, and I will no longer be a pain in his."

"Seriously, who are you? The Bella I know doesn't take that shit lying down. She fights and takes no prisoners. You sound like you've given up." Rose huffs out in exasperation before looking over to Jasper. "This is exactly what we were talking about. This mopey crap is getting old."

"Rose!" Alice hisses.

"You're not helping." Jasper chastises, my mouth still hanging open from the brazen comment.

"Shit," Rose mumbles remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Bella. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"She's right," Jasper adds jumping in. "We're all worried. You haven't been the same since—"

"I'm fine!" I yell cutting him off.

His eyebrow rises challenging my response, but I don't care, I refuse to discuss it. He, unfortunately, refuses to let it die. "Look, I get that grief takes time, but you're cutting people off. We're here to help you, whatever you need. Isolating yourself is not what your dad—"

"Don't," I growl lowly. Alice squeezes my arm, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her subtly shake her head at Jasper. Rose looks on warily, I know she has a lot to say on this subject, and I'm surprised that her liquid courage isn't making her jump on the "you just need to talk about it" bandwagon with Jasper.

Releasing a long frustrated breath, Jasper takes Alice's cue. "Okay, you're right. You wanted a night away. We don't have to talk about this now. We're just worried because we love you."

"And that means a lot to me, but I swear I'm fine." Taking advantage of the leeway, I veer the conversation back to safer topics. "I think I'm just tired, and honestly, this Biers guy freaks me out a bit. He's a really sadistic bastard. What if he creates more victims because I fuck up?"

Jasper stares for a moment. He knows me well enough to know exactly what I'm doing, but thankfully follows my lead anyway. "You're _not_ going to fuck up. Besides, I always have your back. I'm not officially assigned to the case, but I'll still help if you need me," Jasper says, leaning down to look into my eyes. "You have this, and we have you. Alright?"

"Alright." I smile back, silently thanking him for always being there, even when I'm being stubborn. The sentimental moment is short-lived, however, when I feel another sharp smack to the back of my head. Looking over my shoulder, I cut my eyes to Rose.

"Damn it, Rose! What is it with you and the back of my head tonight?"

"Don't let that idiot Newton get to you. You're the best. Make him recognize it," she argues, lifting her finger and pointing it threateningly in my face. "I'm warning you, Swan, keep up this 'woe is me' shit, and I swear I'll kick your ass so far—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Jesus, just how much have you had to drink tonight? You're a little more mouthy than usual."

Giving me a sarcastic smirk, she innocently shrugs her shoulders and lifts her drink to take another sip. But before the glass can touch her lips, she abruptly stops, her eyes widening. "Wait, did you say Biers, as in Riley Biers?"

"Yup, that's the one. You know him?"

"Who doesn't? Damn, you weren't kidding. He's high-profile and slimy as hell. The feds are finally going to prosecute?"

"That's the plan. Your office has gathered data for years. Everyone's decided it's time to go in for the kill, but a lot has to go right to get the sentence we want."

"Sam's the lead on that case right?" she asks seriously, the topic apparently decreasing her buzz.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with him Monday. Any advice?"

"Sam's tough, but he's a solid agent. If anyone can get Biers, it's him. He can be an ass, but I've learned that it comes from a good place. You're going to need him in your corner, so take his attitude with a grain of salt. You respect him, and he'll respect you."

"I can do that," I say, glancing towards the bar wondering how long it will be until Emmett returns with our drinks.

"Are you two done?" Alice asks in annoyance. "Can we leave the work talk behind now? We're here to get away from serious things, and have some fun."

"Honestly, girls. I swear we can't take you anywhere," Jaspers adds, his lips curling into a sarcastic smirk.

I glare in response. He knows damn well that he would be jumping right into the conversation if it were about one of his cases. Turning my back on him in an act of insolence, I focus on Alice giving her a sympathetic smile. "Yes, we're done. Sorry."

Alice works as a museum curator, and is the only member of our group not in the criminal justice field, which is a challenge to say the least. Given how much time we dedicate to our jobs, "shop talk" tends to take over more times than not. However, she is always our tenacious reminder to find balance.

"No way! Is that Bella Swan gracing my fine establishment with her presence?"

I look up to see Paul, the manager of the club, strolling over to our table. Although in his late fifties, Paul could easily take down most of the younger patrons. He's clearly physically fit, and the graphic tattoos running down his arm give him an air of danger. The combo is usually enough to keep most trouble at bay.

Although we met through difficult circumstances, I have come to consider him a dear friend. About four years ago, in a coordinated effort between several agencies, Jasper and I were able to convict the gang members responsible for the murder of his sister. Ever since, no matter how often I tell him it's not necessary, Paul guarantees us access to shows, and use of his personal balcony seats. The generous offer is one that I try not to take advantage of too often.

Getting up, I walk over and meet him for hug. "Hi, Paul."

"It's been too long, sweetie. How _are_ you?"

Aww, there it is. The loaded question everyone eventually gets to when they interact with me nowadays. The tension that left my body moment's ago rushes back as soon as the vile words leave his lips.

"Fine."

Moving back, he holds my arms up, his eyes evaluating me carefully. "You're too thin. Are you eating enough? Are you hungry, do you want something to eat? I can have Leah go and pick you up something."

Even in my irritated state, I find myself smiling at his verbal barrage. As usual, Paul's concern for my wellbeing is making him go overboard. "Really, I'm fine. I'm a big girl, Paul. You don't need to take care of me."

"Bullshit. Someone needs to make sure you're taking care of yourself. I think you'd work yourself to death if we'd let you."

Hearing a chorus of murmured agreement behind me, I shift my narrowed eyes over to my friends. "Thanks for the support, guys," I spit out sarcastically.

"Don't get mad at us just because Paul is speaking the truth," Jasper retorts.

"And you wonder why I don't come out more often. I wanted to have some fun, not be read the riot act."

"Okay, okay. I'll lay off, but I want you to stop by more often. Deal?" Paul asks, looking at me with soft, pleading eyes.

"Deal," I grumble begrudgingly. I don't know if I can hold up my end, but at least agreeing to it will get him to back off for the evening.

"I've been told that I have a pretty good ear and a strong shoulder if you ever need either of those things."

Fortunately, before I can politely decline his "you can fall apart with me" offer, a loud crash from the front pulls Paul's attention away.

"Shit, sounds like the natives are getting restless. I'd better go see what's going on. You have fun tonight, and don't run off before we can catch up," he requests pulling me into another quick hug before rushing off to handle the commotion.

Turning back to the table, I find that abhorrent sympathetic look etched on the faces of my friends. It makes me want to scream. I just want them to treat me like Bella, not some fragile piece of glass that is about to shatter. Why can't they understand that?

My body language must have portrayed my frustration, because suddenly all three drop their eyes and start discussing other things. Maybe they will finally take the hint and leave well enough alone.

"Where the hell is Emmett?" Rose grumbles, looking around.

"He's on his phone," Alice answers.

Glancing at the bar, I see Emmett standing in the corner with a tray of drinks in front of him. Even from here, I can tell that his shoulders are tense as he nervously taps his fingers on the bar. After another second, he frustratingly pulls the phone away from his ear to start typing out what I assume is a text. He does not look happy.

"Any idea about what's going on?" I question.

"It's probably his partner. She's been driving him crazy, and she was in charge of completing their paperwork tonight," Rose answers.

"I hope it gets sorted out. He's been edgy all night," Alice adds.

After finishing his text, he roughly shoves his phone into his pocket before picking up the tray and heading in our direction.

"My eyes must be deceiving me because there is no way that _Bella_ is sitting at our table," Emmett remarks as soon as he arrives. I smile at his typical banter, but notice the creases of stress still on his face, the humor of his statement not quite reaching his eyes.

"What can I say, I like to keep you guys on your toes so you never know what to expect," I joke in return, watching him closely. When he walks over to hand me my drink, I touch his arm softly. "You okay?"

"Of course. Why?" he asks casually, but the underlying tension is clear in his voice.

"You seemed upset over there," I state motioning towards the bar.

"Oh. That was nothing. No worries." He waves me off with a fake smile. "Are you, umm, staying for the concert or just stopping by?"

"I came for the concert. That's still okay isn't it?"

Emmett doesn't respond right away, subtly shifting his eyes to the right as his hand runs nervously through his hair. His cagey behavior is troubling, especially because it appears connected to my unexpected arrival.

"Of course it's okay." Rose jumps in. "What's the deal, Emmett?"

"Nothing," he bites back defensively.

"You sure, man?" Jasper asks focusing his gaze on Emmett. He seems just as confused as I am.

"I said it's nothing. Just a crap day and I wasn't expecting Bella to come that's all. You know you're always welcome," he says with a stiff smile, pulling me into a sideways hug.

Emmett always gives me a hard time about not hanging out with them, so I know there's sincerity behind his words. Nevertheless, tonight seems different, and I am at a loss as to why.

After passing the drinks around, a friendly banter about everything and nothing ensues. Unfortunately, my curiosity about Emmett tempers the relaxing evening I desired. While keeping up with the dialog, I watch him closely, hoping for some clue about his strange behavior, beyond his obvious preoccupation with the phone. Frustratingly, although his body language continues to scream agitation, nothing else he says or does sheds any light on the situation.

Several minutes later, Emmett pulls his phone out for the hundredth time, huffing in annoyance when he looks at the screen. After taking a large gulp of beer, he moves to look at it again, but stops suddenly when he spots something over my shoulder. I watch as the color drains from his face, his eyes becoming wide and panicked. Turning around, I try to spot what has him so uncharacteristically rattled. Shifting my gaze across the room, the air leaves my lungs when I see _him_ moving through the crowd and closer to our location.

_Oh my god!_

Even from a distance, his vibrant green eyes shine as they search the room. His hair, although shorter, is still a perplexing combination of messy and sexy. The lighting of the club highlights the unique bronze tones, and I cannot help but remember how good it felt to run my hands through it. He looks unbelievably beautiful, and my heart stops at the sight. Anger quickly overcomes the shock when my brain processes that he's _actually_ here.

Edward Cullen, the man who stole my heart three years ago and then walked off the face of the earth is walking right towards me.

_I really should have stayed home tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you soon!


	3. Chapter 2: Wicked Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing related to twilight. The original points are my own.
> 
> Thank you to my betas, TDS88 and beautifulnightmarex, they always keep on on track with my commas. A special shout out to LostInPA, whose thoughtful points helped to refine the details. She is awesome!
> 
> Important note: Without giving anything away, I want to make it clear that this is NOT a cheating story.
> 
> Now let's discover a bit more about Edward.

Chapter Two: Wicked Game

_"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."_

_SONNET XVII Pablo Neruda_

* * *

_The wind whips through my hair as soon as I release my ponytail. It's a rare occurrence when the coastal wind doesn't blow here, but at least today, the breeze feels nice in the summer sun. After shaking my head, I gather my hair again and adjust it to fit better under the batter's helmet._

_My Dad has religiously watched baseball my whole life, I, however, was never interested in watching or learning about the sport. Now I wish I had paid closer attention, or at least agreed to go out and hit the ball when he offered to teach me. Who knew that years later my legal career would hinge on my ability to play the stupid game._

_I've only lived in San Francisco for a couple of months, but I learned quickly that the softball tournament between law enforcement agencies is a huge deal around here. So much so, that my first day orientation included a lecture on my expected and successful participation in these games. I guess in comparison to the other teams, ours has always had a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to skill. In our current game against the San Francisco PD, that disadvantage is holding true given that they are already ahead by four runs._

_At the moment, I am waiting in the wings to bat and dreading it. Before the game, I stupidly thought it would be easy. In my haste for acceptance, I may have told a small white lie about my softball playing abilities. Okay, a great big lie, but in my defense, I thought I could back-up the claim. I never imagined that hitting a ball with a bat would be this difficult. Frustratingly, I have yet to hit anything, and my teammates are becoming more and more irritated as the game goes on._

_"Remember, hips before hands, Swan. And for God's sake stop choking up on the bat!" Jasper yells from first base._

_"What the hell does that even mean?" I yell back, looking closely at the way my hands are holding the bat._

_"I take it you're not a pro-softball player?" A quiet, yet sarcastic voice asks from behind me._

_"Hey, —" I spin around to reprimand the person, aggravated by the comments I've had hurled at me all day. As soon as I turn, the angry reply dies on my lips. Standing behind the fence is a gorgeous specimen of a man._

_I'm sure I look like an idiot standing there with my mouth agape, waiting for it to work again as my brain catalogs the vision before me. He is tall and lean, wearing an obviously loved grey shirt and jeans. His distinctive facial features would stand up against any model, while his confident stance gives off the impression that he easily dominates any arena he chooses to step foot in._

_Still stunned, I watch as his eyebrow hitches above the outline of his sunglasses waiting for my response, a sexy smirk gracing his lips. "Aren't lawyers supposed to be good with the whole talking thing?" he questions, obviously enjoying my reaction._

_My eyes narrow at his derisive remark, pride effectively kicking the girly part of myself to the side. "Is there a reason for this tête-à-tête or are you just trying to be an asshole?"_

_He bursts out laughing; it sounds almost musical. "Touché," he retorts as he continues to stare fixedly in my direction. I cannot stop the flush that occurs in response. Apparently, my traitorous body is unwilling to cooperate with my irritation towards the stranger._ _"I couldn't help but overhear, so I thought I'd lend a hand," he says seriously._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_Moving to the side of the fence, he comes through the opening and walks over to stand directly in front of me. "Your teammate's advice? You didn't understand what he was saying, so I came over to show you instead."_

_"Wait, why are you helping me?" I question defensively, my preoccupied brain finally realizing that he's not anyone I recognize from the office._ _"You aren't some nut that hangs around baseball fields waiting to offer advice to random strangers, are you?" I add sarcastically._

_He laughs again, his face lighting up in the process. He's even more beautiful close-up. "I promise I'm not a 'nut'. I'm a friend of that guy." He points to the field at one of the opposing players in the middle. "Emmett McCarty."_

_"Isn't it against the rules to fraternize with the enemy?"_

_"Fraternize?" he asks, his smirk returning. "That's a pretty serious accusation considering I don't even know your name."_

_"You know what I mean," I mutter looking down, feeling warmth spread through my face again, but this time out of embarrassment._

_"I just came to watch. I'm not on his team, which means I can help anyone I want," he comments matter-of-factly. I merely stare in return, trying to gage his true intentions. Grinning again, he continues. "But let's get back to that fraternizing part. What exactly would that entail?"_

_"You really are an ass." I huff, but before I can tell him where to shove it, he cuts me off._

_"Edward. Edward Cullen," he says, reaching out his hand. "You've called me an unfavorable name twice now. I figure you should at least know my real one. And you are?"_

_I find myself hesitating to answer, feeling a little overwhelmed by my reaction to the man in front of me. Just as quickly as the uncertain thoughts strike, my dad's voice immediately drifts in to refute them. He spent my childhood teaching me, both through his words and actions, never to pass up on any opportunities that this crazy life offers. Spurred on by his wisdom, and the sincerity shining in Edward's eyes, I decide to embrace the moment and just see where the conversation leads._

_"Bella Swan." I reach out and grab his hand firmly. It's warm, soft and completely envelops my own. The unexpected jolting sensation of his touch causes my heartbeat to jump erratically._

_"Nice to meet you, Bella Swan," he whispers huskily, still holding my hand. We stare at each other for several seconds before he shakes his head, breaking the bewildering moment. "Let's talk about what it means to choke up on the bat."_

_"W-what?" I sputter taken aback by the change in topic._

_"Choking up. Here let me show you." Reaching down, he takes the bat out of my hand. "When you put your hands here, it's called choking up on the bat." He places his hands on the bat several inches above the knob, lifting it to show me._

_"And that's bad," I state trying to following him. I assume Jasper would not yell about it if the form were correct._

_"Not always. It helps if you want a quicker swing against a fast pitcher. But that pitcher," he says pointing towards the field, "is not particularly fast, and he tends to pitch to the outside. You lose length with this hold, which is part of the reason you're missing the pitches."_

_"Oh," I sigh._

_"Next time, place your hands at the end, so they rest against the knob. Like this." He holds the bat up again, but this time demonstrates the proper form._

_"Okay, got it."_

_"Now, hips before hands," he murmurs stepping a bit closer. If possible, my heart beats faster._

_"What exactly does that mean?" I ask in a breathless whisper._

_Stepping behind me, he holds the bat out in front of us, his arms encasing my body. Leaning down, I feel his lips ghost along my ear. "Hold the bat."_

_Shakily, I wrap my hands around the bat, holding it as he showed me earlier. I still have no clue where this person came from or why he is helping me, but I also know at this point I don't really care. For some unexplainable reason, Edward is igniting a desire that I have not experienced for a long time, if ever. What's more, I find myself really enjoying it._

_"Good," he hums. "Okay, when you hit, you want your hips to lead your hands. Basically, rotate your hips first. Like this."_

_I feel his hand gently wrap around my left hip as he lightly pushes back, causing me to rotate slightly. Immediately after, his right hand, which is resting above mine, guides the bat forward._

_"Hips before hands," he breathes into my ear._

_My brain is fuzzy. I have completely lost sight of what I am doing or why I am here. The world has suddenly been reduced to just the two of us. Nothing else matters but this moment, which is crazy considering we have just met._

_"Swan, you're up!" Mike calls from the dugout disrupting the intense chemistry between Edward and I. "And you better hit that damn ball!"_

_Mike has screamed at me all day. Jasper thinks he might have money riding on this game. I think he just hates me. For no justifiable reason, Mike has given me a hard time since the first day I walked into his department, and no matter what I do, nothing has changed his attitude towards me. The frustrating thing is that I am ten times the lawyer than that douche bag will ever be, but since he's my boss, I can't call him on it._

_"He's kind of a prick, isn't he," Edward states. Peering over my shoulder, I see him staring in Mike's direction. His jaw tightening as he stands a bit taller. The testosterone-filled move surprises me. Maybe he and Mike have had problems before._

_"You don't know the half of it," I mutter walking out of his grasp. "I should go before I get in trouble for delay of game or something. Wish me luck."_

_"Good luck," he enunciates quietly, his eyes burning into mine. "Just remember what we talked about, and you'll be fine." Mesmerized by his smile, I find it hard to drag myself away._

_Stepping up to the plate, I look at the pitcher trying to calm my nerves. The first pitch flies, and I desperately swing and miss. Swearing under my breath, I try to focus on my grip while blocking out the aggravated yelling surrounding me. The second pitch comes fast, once again causing me to chase the ball instead of hitting it. The yelling intensifies, now accompanied by the other team's mocking hoots and hollers._

_"Don't listen to them. You got this, Bella!" I hear Edward's velvet words cutting through the static._

_Focusing my eyes on the pitcher, I take a breath and concentrate on the ball. Almost in slow motion, I watch him wind-up and throw, the ball moving towards me. Tightening my grip, I swing the bat around hearing an unexpected crack as it makes contact and forces the ball back in the opposite direction._

_"Run!" Jasper yells breaking me out of my initial shock._

_Dropping the bat, I sprint to first base, reaching it easily before they can tag me out. With the adrenaline of excitement still coursing through my body, I can't help but jump up and down when I get there. Looking over, I see Edward standing against the chain link fence with a wide smile. He lifts his hand to tip his hat, and my body automatically reacts to the sight. I decide right then and there that somehow I will find a way to talk to Edward Cullen again._

* * *

Snapping back to the present, I focus my anger on Emmett.

"Want to tell me again how that phone call was nothing, Em?" I spit out, still focusing on the man walking towards us. It looks like he hasn't spotted us yet, which still gives me time to slip away and avoid the inevitable awkward encounter.

"Shit!" he hisses under his breath. "I'm sorry, Bella. I swear I tried to reach him before he showed up. I never would have invited him if I thought you were coming tonight."

"Whatever. I'm out of here." I roughly grab my coat and turn to walk in the opposite direction.

"Whoa, what's going on? Where are you going?" Jasper asks, looking a little alarmed by my sudden movements.

"Ask Emmett. I don't have time to explain."

"Emmett!" A hauntingly familiar voice calls out.

Fortunately, I don't think Edward can see me given that Emmett is now blocking most of my body and my back is to him. Taking in the scene, Jasper quickly figures out why I'm upset. He looks over my shoulder bewildered, before swinging his eyes back to mine with concern. Shifting to step around him, Jasper abruptly reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me.

"Let go," I hiss, glaring at his invasive hand.

Jasper simply tightens his grip and gives me one of his silent "this is for your own good" looks. I know what he is trying to do. Like everything else in my life these days, he thinks I need to find closure with Edward, believing that if I can confront my feelings, I will finally move on. Well, screw him. Tonight is not the night I need to face my demons. Wrenching my arm away, I walk around him without saying another word.

"Is that Edward?" Alice asks incredulously.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Rose hisses at Emmett.

Not waiting to hear his response, I swiftly scoot past both girls towards freedom. Moving away from the table, I sigh in relief. Unfortunately, my reprieve is short-lived. After taking only a few steps, the nightmare of having to face Edward comes screaming to the forefront of my reality.

"Bella?" Edward almost chokes.

I can hear the shock in his voice. Apparently, I'm not the only one who wasn't expecting a reunion tonight. Straightening my spine and cracking my neck, I take a deep breath and channel my courtroom persona. If I'm going to face him, I am going to do it on my terms. _No emotion, no mercy._

Turning around, I look directly into his eyes. "Edward," I say curtly.

He stands rigid, his knuckles slowly turning ashen under the pressure of his clutching fists. I can tell he's taken aback by my presence. His eyes scan me, seemingly drinking in every part. I want to yell at him to stop. To scream that he doesn't have the right to look at me anymore, but I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he still affects me.

"Bella," he whispers. If I didn't know any better, I would say he sounds almost… reverent. "I didn't realize you would be here."

"Last minute decision. So, you're back?" _Ice cold_ , I chant trying to convince myself that I don't really care about his answer.

"Umm, yeah. I just got back a couple of days ago." He nervously rubs his hand across the back of his neck. It's a familiar gesture, one that I used to know well.

"Is anyone going to give me an answer as to why he's here?" Rose jumps in. "Because last time I checked, he's not welcome." Cutting her eyes over to Edward, she takes a small step forward. "Bella can be the bigger person all she wants, but in my book you're just an asshole who needs to crawl back into whatever hole you came out of. She doesn't need your mind games!"

I allow a small smirk to break free before I force my mask back in place. Leave it to Rose to defend me so vocally. She has continuously had my back when it comes to Edward, and I have always appreciated her support, especially since he's Emmett's longest and closest friend. Edward may have introduced us, but my friendship with Rose developed fast and fierce.

"Rose," Emmett whispers in a warning.

"Don't 'Rose' me! Why is he here, Emmett? Did you really think that just because Bella wasn't with us, we would welcome back him with open arms?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Alice moving closer as Rose spouts the things that are on the tip of my tongue. I love her for saying everything I cannot.

"This was a mistake. I should just go," Edward mutters, still holding my gaze. His focus on me has not wavered since I turned around.

Instead of being happy about his willingness to leave, his offer just pisses me off. His concession sounds like it stems from sympathy, and the last thing I want is his pity. I need him to believe that his presence means nothing; our relationship and his departure are merely insignificant blips in my history. Fuck him if he thinks he needs to make things better on my behalf.

Before I can respond to his offer, Paul's voice blares from the sound system, breaking us out of the uncomfortable stare down. "Okay folks, the show's about to start, if you don't want to miss it, grab your seat or piece of floor pronto."

Resigned, I direct my attention to Edward. "You don't have to go. We came for the concert and there's no reason we can't all stay. We're adults right?" I say diplomatically and emotionless. Maintaining my façade, I turn towards my friends. "I appreciate your support, but he honestly doesn't have to leave on my account."

The tension between Edward and I builds as everyone considers my proposal, his eyes still refusing to leave me. Jasper nods his head in approval, while Rose raises her eyebrow in disapproval. Alice chooses to react by quietly squeezing my arm, and Emmett simply gives me a curious look. I'm sure he's wondering about my sudden change of heart. Luckily, he doesn't question me. His silence is most likely for his own benefit as well, not wanting to upset the group further, especially since he is the reason for the inadvertent debacle in the first place. I almost feel sorry for him considering the earful that Rose will most likely give him later.

"Are you sure?" Edward whispers, a spark of…hope in his eyes.

"Of course. Why would I care if you stay?" I say coldly, wanting to extinguish his optimistic look. "Come on, let's go or else we're going to miss the start of the show."

I casually slip my arm through Alice's and start walking to the auditorium. Breezing past Edward, I try to ignore the overwhelming emotions that hit me when my brain registers the familiar scent of spice and vanilla. The smell used to give me feelings of safety and warmth, but tonight it sickens my stomach as unwanted memories of our history flash through my mind. Luckily, my increasing anger helps to push the memories back quickly, and I find myself suddenly furious that he has the gall to smell the same.

Rose scrambles around the table to walk with us. As soon as she reaches me, she leans over to whisper in my ear. "Are you sure about this?"

I give her a tight smile. "Positive. The last thing I want is for him to think that he still gets to me. Understand?"

She quickly returns a knowing smirk. "Gotcha. Project 'Bella doesn't care about your fucking ass' is officially underway."

"Should I bring the wine and chocolate over later so you can _really_ deal with this craziness?" Alice questions.

"Let's just see how this goes first. Okay?"

"Whatever you need, just let us know." Alice squeezes my arm again, subtly glancing behind her. "Jesus, I never expected him to come back, especially after everything that happened."

"Later," I whisper not wanting to have that conversation here.

Glancing behind myself, I see the boys following. Emmett and Edward look like they are in the middle of an intense, but hushed conversation. I suddenly wonder if Edward would have come had he known I was here. The thought twists my heart. I don't know what bothers me more; him wanting to see me or not wanting to see me.

Weaving through the crowd, our group makes it up the stairs and to our seats just as the lights dim. Strategically, I sit at one end of the row with everyone piling in after, leaving the seat furthest from me for Edward. From time to time, I sense the heat of his stare, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I keep my laser focus on the stage and the band. My mind, however, is a flurry of activity.

I still can't believe that he's here. All I wanted tonight was a break, a chance to feel normal. Instead, I'm anxiously focused on Edward. The thin wall between sanity and insanity is waning, and when Washed Out starts singing "All I Know" my control almost shatters.

_"I can feel the weight of it all. Can't brace myself for the fall."_

The room is suffocatingly hot as I try to sort through the unwanted waves of emotion. My measured and concentrated breaths feel almost painful moving in and out of my chest. Maybe I'm unknowingly trapped in Dante's Inferno. It would certainly explain the recent events in my life.

_"Say it's time that I try to move on. That the life that we had is now gone."_

The evocative melody continues to fill the room as my mind drifts. Long buried memories awaken, transporting me away from the present and into an unwelcome past.

_"It's so hard cause you're all I know."_

It was at another club not in the not too distant past that I thought I had finally found my destiny. The worst part is I still don't know how it all went so wrong.

* * *

_I shiver as the electric feeling of Edward's touch travels up my spine when he places his hand on my lower back, leading me into the Sheba Piano Lounge. I've never felt anything like it, but it gives me an odd sort of comfort. It's crazy that I only met Edward a week ago, because it feels like I have known him forever. Although we are still learning about each other, every piece of his life that he shares seems to fit perfectly with my own, and I admit that I'm starting to love the picture of us._

_After Edward helped me during the softball game, I feared he might simply fade away with the sunset. To my happy surprise, he stuck around long enough to get my number and introduce me to his friend, Emmett. I was even more astounded when he called later that night, and we ended up spending several hours on the phone getting to know one another. Considering how tongue-tied I usually am around someone I'm attracted to, it was an amazingly comfortable conversation._

_Our nightly phone calls continued for several days before he finally asked me out on an official date. Since he was more familiar with the city, he insisted on planning everything. Tonight's anticipation was almost torturous, and I found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything else the last couple of days._

_"I hope you like Ethiopian and jazz," Edward states after giving his name to the host._

_"I do. An interesting combination, but I do." I'm unable to keep the smile off my face as we follow another host to a cozy couch and table in the corner next to a fireplace._

_The club's ambiance clearly caters to romance, which is slightly ironic considering that Ethiopian cuisine is a double-edged sword for setting a romantic mood. The sharing aspect is very intimate, but having to use your hands is messy. Suddenly, the precarious nature of this situation dawns on me. Due to clumsy tendencies, messy food is my nemesis. Hell, I'm lucky to make it through the day without some sort of stain on my shirt._

_Panic sets in as I try to figure out a way to avoid embarrassment. Glancing nervously at Edward, I catch him staring at me, happiness shining in his eyes. The vision quiets my mental chatter and somehow calms me. For years, my dad has told me that you can't develop a relationship under the false expectation of perfection. Great love, he says, embraces the imperfect. That is how it survives the chaos of life._

_Suddenly, I understand exactly what he means. I want this, and I want Edward to know me completely. For the first time, I don't just want to go through the motions of dating. If this relationship has any chance of making it, and I hope to God it does, Edward needs to accept me for me, clumsy tendencies and all. With my panic subsiding, I settle into my seat and give Edward a shy smile, warming on the inside when his faces lights up even more._

_After ordering our drinks, I sit back to soak up the atmosphere and energy of the place. It's peaceful and relaxing. Towards the front of the room, there is a small blues band on stage, the singer belting out a soulful song about heartbreak. Closing my eyes, I simply revel in the sound._

_"Looks like you're enjoying yourself," Edward whispers beside me. Turning, I catch him staring at me again, his penetrating stare making me shiver. "Are you a fan of this group?"_

_"They sound great, but it's the first time I've heard them."_

_"They do have a great sound. It takes amazing talent to hold your own in the blues world," he comments._

_"You like this genre, huh?" I question, my interest piqued by the passion I hear behind his words._

_"Yeah, blues is one of my favorites. I love how the notes build and linger. You can almost feel the emotion spilling out of the highs and lows."_

_"That's a beautiful description. Do you play?" It is obvious that music means a lot to him._

_"A bit," he admits shyly._

_"What do you play?"_

_"Mainly piano and guitar, but on a dare a few months ago, I started learning the standing bass too." He looks down, seemingly embarrassed by the conversation. I have a feeling, however, that he is just being modest._

_"Sounds like there's a story behind the bass." He laughs and nods his head, but does not give me any other details. I find myself hoping that he'll share them with me another time. "Will you play for me one day?" I request, leaning down trying to catch his eye._

_He looks up smiling brightly. "If you play your cards right, maybe," he answers flirtatiously. "You said you liked jazz. Who do you have on your iPod?"_

_"Well actually," I laugh thinking about how strange my answer will sound now that I know how much this genre means to him. "I love coming to a club and hearing someone play, but I've never wanted to add any to my music collection." Edward looks at me wide-eyed. "I know, I'm strange." I smile shrugging my shoulders._

_"This might change everything," he says with mock seriousness, mirth shining in his eyes. "I don't know if I can continue to date someone with such a superficial like of jazz and blues."_

_"Maybe I just need someone to show me how to truly appreciate it," I suggest staring into his eyes, my voice taking on a gravelly sound._

_"Sounds like a challenge I need to take on," he murmurs, his hand slowly moving closer to mine._

_Nervously, I decided to acknowledge the other part of his statement, his words causing my heart to beat wildly in my chest. "So, dating? Is that what we're doing, Mr. Cullen?"_

_Edward finally bridges the gap between our hands by reaching over to intertwine our fingers gently. Lifting them to his mouth, he lightly kisses my knuckles. "I can only hope, Ms. Swan. I can only hope."_

* * *

Loud clapping and screaming brings me back to the present. Looking around, I realize the band just finished their encore. I guess I was lost in my memories longer than I thought. A lone tear escapes, and I hope that the low lighting and distance will prevent Edward from noticing the weak moment. Tightening my hands until my nails dig into my skin, I compel myself to pull it together. I've successfully held my own for far too long to let things fall apart now.

With the concert over, the house lights suddenly brighten, illuminating not only the room, but also the unnerving nature of the situation. Now there is nothing preventing me from interacting with Edward. It's one thing to sit near him during a concert; it is a whole other thing to sit around trying to have a civil conversation about nothing.

Glancing over, I catch him staring at me again, his eyes questioning and wary. Turning away for my own self-preservation, I decide that I've fulfilled my social obligation by staying through the concert. Given the early morning hour, I can easily leave without appearing as if I am escaping. Expelling a shuddering breath, the pressure eases off my chest knowing it is almost over.

"You guys want to head back to the poster room or just go somewhere and get some food?" Emmett asks casually, throwing out the vague offer to everyone.

His suggestion angers me. I get that he's stuck in the middle, but I selfishly want him to support me over Edward. He knows that a casual drink or meal won't fix this situation. Things between Edward and I will never go back to the way they were. I cannot let it.

Instead of answering Emmett, everyone looks to me for a response. "You guys go ahead. I think I'm going to call it a night. I've got a long weekend ahead to prepare for that case," I say nonchalantly, consciously avoiding the eyes that have not left me all evening.

"You're sure?" Jasper asks.

"Yup." I smile widely. The movement feels forced and unnatural.

"Want Rose and me to come with you? Finish up with a girl's night." Alice suggests with a loaded look.

She obviously believes it's time to break out the wine, chocolate, and tissues. I know she means well, but the last thing I want is an emotional venting session. I'd rather just put this night behind me and keep moving forward.

"No, that's okay. I really need to get some sleep if I have any hope of being productive tomorrow. I'll call you later though." Alice quietly nods her head and gives me a sympathetic look. I hate that look. I've seen too much of it lately.

I take my time saying goodbye to everyone, wanting to keep up my "I don't care" facade all the way to the end. Walking over to Jasper, he pulls me into a tight embrace.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers into my ear. "It gets better, I promise." I numbly nod my head in response, but not in agreement. He doesn't understand.

Pulling back, he reminds me that he's there if I need help with the case, and tells me again that I am the perfect person to take the lead. It's ironic that his words barely register; only a few short hours ago the Biers case was my biggest concern. Now it sits on the back burner to the chaotic thoughts about Edward's return. This is exactly why I need to get distance from this situation. I will not let Edward Cullen distract me again.

After I say goodbye to mostly everyone, I realize the only one left is Edward. I feel the world tilt when I turn and see him slowly making his way over to me. The man has always affected me like no other. However, this time the emotions are conflicting and painful. I don't know if I will ever understand how he could walk away from something that felt so powerful.

"Edward," I say first, wanting to have the control, but not having a clue about what to say. "Take care and welcome back, I guess."

"Bella, I… uh…it's good to see you," he mumbles, glancing quickly at the people around us.

He's clearly uncomfortable, and I get the sense that if it weren't for prying eyes, he would have a lot more to say. Shifting his eyes back to me, a look of determination crosses his face. Little by little, he steps closer, his eyes piercing. The magnetic pull between us grabs me, and in my peripheral vision, I notice his hand slowly reaching forward. Realizing his intent, I almost jump backwards to avoid contact.

Blatantly ignoring his hurt look, I nod my head to acknowledge his strained statement and say goodbye one more time before finally making my escape. Frustratingly, before I can make it out of the door, someone else steps in and blocks my path yet again.

"Bella! Leaving so soon?" Paul asks. "I thought we were going to catch up?"

"I'm sorry, Paul, but can we do it another time? I really need to go," I blurt out quickly. The longer I'm in this building, the more claustrophobic I feel. I just need to get out of here.

"Okay, sweetie." He looks into my eyes, searching for the truth. I can only hope that I've hidden my emotions well enough or else he won't let me go easily. After several agonizing seconds, he seems to accept my excuse. "But you have to come back soon. Promise?" he asks, pulling me in for one last hug.

"Promise."

Once freed from Paul's arms, I move quickly. Rushing out of the front door, the cold air immediately hits me. It's a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat of the club. Inhaling it deeply, I try to focus on the victory of surviving the night instead of the disconcerting feelings that Edward's return has stirred up.

The loss of our relationship has always been a struggle, and one that I don't acknowledge often. Knowing he was out of the country made it easier somehow. Having him back in _my_ city is beyond confusing, especially now. The best thing I can do is avoid any interactions with him. Adjusting my scarf and stuffing my hands into my pockets, I hurriedly follow the same path I took earlier.

"Bella!" I hear from behind me.

_There's no way._ I keep pushing forward, pretending that it is just my imagination and not really Edward following me.

"Bella, wait up," Edward calls again, this time closer. Stopping, I slowly turn and see him running in my direction. He reaches me quickly, wispy puffs of air leaving his mouth as he catches his breath.

"What's up?" I ask, hoping that I pulled off a casual tone even with the blood rushing through my ears.

"Let me walk you home."

I stare for a moment positive that I must have heard him wrong. He cannot honestly think that he can just step back into my life as if nothing is wrong.

"Are you kidding me?" I burst out before I can filter my mouth.

"No." I open my mouth to speak again, but he quickly cuts me off. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, and I have no right to ask anything of you."

"That's right!" I yell bitterly.

"But, I can't let you walk home alone this late at night either." I am sure my face looks as shocked as I feel. There was no preparing for his ludicrous request. "Look, you don't have to talk to me. I just want to make sure you get there safely, okay."

"I don't need you to protect me, Edward. I've done just fine on my own for the last _three_ years," I spit out venomously.

Edward doesn't flinch or respond to my heated words. Instead, he simply looks at me with a strange and solemn expression. As if, he is not only expecting my anger, but is ready for the repercussions of it. Almost as if he desires it, like a masochistic fighter in a sparring match waiting for the inevitable punch.

For the first time tonight, I really _see_ him. His normally bright eyes are devastatingly haunted, and underneath his familiar facial lines and good looks is weariness. He looks exhausted, not physically tired, but the fatigue and disillusionment that comes from having a troubled soul.

I don't know what he's done for the last three years, but it has obviously changed him. A part of my heart aches at the sight, my anger suddenly deflating. During my worst moments, I use to wish him ill will, but actually seeing it affects me more than I expected.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I know that won't change anything, but I am," he whispers, his hands flexing restlessly, while his foot scratches at the pavement. I've never seen him this unsure of himself. "I just want to walk you home. I promise."

"It's really not necessary."

"I think it is," he argues back before slamming his mouth shut, his eyes shining with sudden regret at the forcefulness of his tone. He is smart enough to know that it will not earn him any favors. "Please, just let me do this," he requests again quietly.

He's clearly not going to back down. I remember his protective side well. "Fine." I concede turning to walk again, now more confused than ever.

I don't get far before Edward catches up and falls into an awkward step beside me. Shifting my eyes over to him, the only word that describes what I see is "lethal". His body looks primed for battle with his arms rigid, fists tight, and shoulders hitched, while his eyes are alert and continuously scanning the sidewalk and street around us. The sight is shocking, and once again, I find myself wondering what he's done during his time away. Shaking my head, I focus back on the path in front of me trying to ignore the myriad of questions swirling in my head.

Edward maintains his watchful vigil as we continue to walk in an uncomfortable silence. When anyone steps particularly close to me, he stands taller and narrowly stares him or her down, no matter how unassuming they appear. A few even jumped out-of-the-way, frightened by the look on his face. His defensive posture is a bit overboard considering nobody demonstrated ill intent, not to mention that I walk this path several times a day without any problems. I bite my tongue from questioning him about his behavior. Although I'm curious, starting a conversation is not worth the possible painful revelations.

Finally, reaching my house, I strut up the walkway leading to my door. Glimpsing behind me, I see Edward continuing to follow. Swinging around, I look at him pointedly. "Okay, I'm home."

"I'll just wait until your inside."

"Seriously?"

"I'm not trying to get an invite inside, Bella. I'm just making sure you get in okay."

"Whatever," I mumble, turning back around to unlock my door. Shoving the key in, I hear the familiar sound of grating metal when it jams. "Of course," I mutter under my breath.

Pushing the key in harder and shaking the doorknob, I try desperately to make it work. Unshed angry tears blur my vision making the task even more difficult. Being this close to the comfort of my home and not being able to get in, especially when I can feel Edward's eyes burning a hole into my back is agonizing. Trying to keep some amount of dignity until I get him to leave, I split my concentration between getting the lock to work and preventing the tears from falling.

"That looks cumbersome," Edward comments.

"Yeah, this lock tends to stick. It just takes a second," I say gruffly, mentally trying to will the lock to work with me.

"Want me to give it a shot?" Edward asks, as the key continues to refuse to push all the way into the lock.

Huffing out a breath, I look up to tame my tears before turning around and dropping the evil key into Edward's outstretched hand. "Go for it," I say lowly, stepping to the side.

Moving around me, Edward gently maneuvers the key into the hole. "You know, you should really get this fixed. It makes you an easy target when you have to stand outside of your door and mess with a lock."

"You make it sound like I live in the ghetto. This is still a nice neighborhood, Edward. I don't think taking a few extra seconds to get into my house is all that dire," I say sarcastically.

"Even so, it's still not safe. I'm surprised your dad hasn't replaced it by now. He was always so protective of you."

"My dad's dead." The words sound cold even to my own ears. In the five months I've lived with the harsh reality, I've barely said them aloud.

Edward's movements stop and he turns towards me stunned. "I'm sorry. I didn't know," he speaks softly, his eyes sympathetic and sad.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't, now would you." I cross my arms, glaring at him.

Slowly shaking his head, his shoulders drop in defeat. Turning back to his task, he finally gets the door open. Stepping aside, he waves his arm granting me access. As I pass by, he reaches out to hand me the key. I take it carefully, purposely avoiding his outstretched fingers.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome. I guess I should get going." He sighs, gazing longingly for another moment before heading back towards the main sidewalk.

Frozen in the doorway, I watch as he walks away, the encounter leaving me lost in a surge of thoughts and emotions. Unable to contain myself any longer, I finally blurt out one of the questions I desperately want him to answer.

"Why did you come back?"

Edward halts in his tracks and pauses before turning around. His eyes spear my soul when they find me, the intense look stealing my breath.

"For you."

Gasping at his retreating form, I wonder not only what he means but also whether I have the strength to pretend that I don't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens as they say ;)


	4. Chapter 3: Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you to both ADF and the FicSisters International House of Fanfic for recommending it on their sites. I am so incredibility honored! 
> 
> As always, this chapter wouldn't be the same without the guidance and support of my betas, LostInPA and Beautifulnightmarex. They are awesome.
> 
> I own nothing related to Twilight.
> 
> Now on with the show.

Chapter 3: Pieces

_"I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

 

_The warm breeze smells honeyed, making it a perfect night for a movie in the park. Walking hand in hand, Edward and I make our way over to a secluded spot in the back. Unfolding the blanket on the worn grass, I bend over to smooth out all the edges, watching out of the corner of my eye as Edward looks on with a heated smirk. His blatant reaction to my unintentional eye-full melts me from the inside out._

_"Are you finally going to let me see what you have in there?" I ask with my own smirk, motioning to the large picnic basket he is holding. Edward had surprised me by showing up with dinner already prepared. The fact that he went to so much trouble is sweet, but knowing that cooking and Edward don't mix has me a bit worried._

_Memories of his disastrous breakfast after our first night together flash in my mind, and I have to bite my lip to prevent any unexplainable laughter. He looked so proud bringing the tray into his bedroom. Unfortunately, he made the fatal mistake of not tasting the meal before he served it. Edward had taken the concept of "seasoned" eggs to a new level, and the first forkful nearly burnt my tongue with the overwhelming taste of salt. Not wanting to extinguish his happiness, I managed to choke the bite down. However, not fooled by my inept acting skills, he quickly stole my fork to try it. His mortified expression was priceless as he spit it out, profusely apologizing before grabbing the tray and running back into the kitchen to dispose of the experiment. Needless to say, we ended up going out to eat that morning._

_"Oh ye of little faith." Edward smiles widely, patting the top of the basket._

_"What?"_

_"I know what you're thinking, Swan."_

_"I don't know what…I mean…I never…" I sputter, my logical excuses not quite catching up with the speed of my mouth. "Just tell me what's in there, Cullen."_

_Edward tries unsuccessfully to stare me down before breaking into an infectious grin. "I can't be serious with that face. You're adorable when you're all flustered, you know that?" Narrowing my eyes at his description, he leans over to kiss my frowning lips. "I went to Miller's East Coast Deli for take out."_

_Beaming, I clap my hands with delight and relief. "You're a genius! They have the best sandwiches."_

_"I know," he responds smugly while unpacking the basket._

_Sitting side-by-side and sharing the delicious feast, Edward and I get lost in a comfortable discussion. Before I know it, the sun dips low in the western sky and the big screen starts flickering to life, indicating the impending start of the movie. A part of me is sad that our heart-to-heart will need to end. I've never felt so content, and I find myself not wanting any distractions from just being with him. Tilting my head towards the sky, I enjoy the splendor of the moment, trying to imprint it into my mind._

_"You are so beautiful," Edward whispers. Turning, I find him staring at me, his hand reaching out to run his fingers gently down my face. "I never expected you."_

_"What do you mean?" I question, confused by his odd choice of words._

_"The day we met, I had gone to the game to get my mind off some disappointing news about a," he pauses, as if calculating his next words, "a job offer of sorts. Anyway, I was angry that my plans fell apart, and then suddenly you stole all of my attention. As cheesy as it sounds, that saying about one door closing and another opening really came true that day."_

_I smile, warmed by his words. "What was the job?" I ask curiously. He's never mentioned it._

_"It doesn't matter. It's not important anymore," he says casually. "After meeting you I'm glad it didn't work out."_

_"Really?" It's hard to tell if he truly doesn't care, or if he just doesn't want to talk about it._

_"Really. I could never regret anything that brought you into my life," he declares leaning forward to kiss me deeply._

_My passion for him burns all the way into my toes. "I love you."_

_"I love you so much, Bella. More than you will ever understand."_

_Our lips collide again, his hand gliding up my neck and through my hair. The familiar humming of his touch trails behind his movements causing my heart to beat wildly. With a sensual pull, he captures my bottom lip between his own, and I can't help but moan in response. His other hand draws me closer, ghosting under the hem of my shirt, his fingers on my skin setting me on fire. I'm lost in the sea of sensations. Pushing, pulling, touching, tugging, until finally falling… quite literally on the ground. Our bodies crash together in awkward position, and I can't help but giggle at our less than stellar romantic move._

_"Oops." Above me, Edward laughs and tucks my messy hair behind my ear._

_"I guess my clumsy tendency is rubbing off," I joke, sitting back up and straightening my shirt._

_"Aren't they cute, Harold?" An unexpected voice rings out._

_Glancing to my left, I spot an elderly couple sitting on a blanket a few feet away. Embarrassed that they saw us, I hide my flushed face in the side of Edward shoulder. He softly chuckles against my head, rubbing my back reassuringly. Turning to face my embarrassment, I smile shyly as Edward introduces us._

_"Sorry about that. I, uh, guess we got caught up in a moment there. I'm Edward and this is Bella."_

_"Oh don't be silly. Movies in the park are supposed to bring out the romance," The elderly woman comments with a wave of her hand. "I'm Maggie and this is my Harold."_

_With Edward's arm still wrapped around me, I sit up a little straighter and greet the couple. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."_

_"You have a beautiful girl there, Edward. Take it from an old guy like me, beauties like that are a rare gift. Never let them go," Harold cautions, glancing sideways at Maggie._

_"Believe me, I don't intend to." Edward looks directly at me when he responds, his eyes filled with love and passion._

_"They remind me of us at that age." Maggie sighs, squeezing her husband's hand._

_"Thank you," I reply sincerely, wondering if Edward and I will still be that close in forty years._

_"Enjoy the movie, dears." Maggie graces us with one last smile before turning her attention back to Harold._

_Edward leans forward to kiss me softly. "He's right you know. I'd be stupid to ever let you go."_

_"Then don't," I murmur, snuggling into his side, watching as the movie brightens the night sky around us._

* * *

 

The muted light of early dawn peaks through my windows. Sighing heavily, I flop onto my back trying to get comfortable. Sleep has evaded me, my whirling thoughts making it impossible to rest. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are haunted emerald eyes filling my mind as the words "for you" repeat on a continuous loop.

Rubbing my gritty eyes, I realize that achieving any sleep at this point is a losing battle. Standing to stretch, my muscles pleasantly tingle with release, but the relief is short-lived. I'm exhausted, even my bones feel tired. It is a feeling I've never experienced until recently, and today it feels as though the hopelessness is winning.

Changing into comfortable sweats, I walk downstairs and head directly into the kitchen. Given the restless evening, my first priority is to brew an extra strong pot coffee. If I have any hopes of completing anything today, I will definitely need the extra kick. Waiting for the pot to fill drip by drip, I turn my attention to the foggy weather outside of the dew-covered window. Watching the billowy wisps float by is almost hypnotic as my mind continues to replay the events of last night. It makes me wonder how much stress a person can take before they finally fall apart.

You're being ridiculous!

I used to pride myself on my ability to overcome adversity. It's hard to comprehend why I can't do the same thing with these most recent events. I feel like I'm standing on a cliff, and the seduction of the darkness below is becoming more tempting, especially the freedom that would come with just letting go. My dad would be disappointed. This is not how he raised me, and yet, that knowledge has not been enough for me to change it. The only distractions from my dark thoughts are my cases. They give me a sense of purpose, and it's one of the reasons that Riley's case is so important. It has become a lifeline of sorts.

After filling a large cup with caffeinated goodness, I sit at the dining room table, ready to tackle the pile of papers crowding it. Opening the first file, I review Biers' background information making sure to take notes of key points and possible arguments. Riley is San Francisco's most notorious criminal mastermind and leader of its biggest crime syndicate. Recently, his strong hold has started creeping into other cities and neighboring western states, which is why our office wants to strike now.

Flipping through the pages, I come across a large professional photo. Holding it up, I foolishly wish that I could learn all of Riley's secrets by simply analyzing it. At face value, there is no doubt that the man is gorgeous. His handsome face, perfect smile, and hypnotic eyes provide an intoxicating visual, which he uses to his advantage in both his personal and business life.

However, it is what's lacking behind the gunmetal-blue depths that truly intrigue me. I have met "soulless" individuals on several occasions, but the ominous darkness staring out from the glossy paper makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand-up. The fact that this man believes he is invincible and derives pleasure from the pain of others energizes me to work even harder. I want to knock that sinister smirk right off of his face. Feeling a small spark, I sit up straighter and will myself to concentrate.

To hell with everything else, this is my priority.

Focused on reading, it takes me a moment to hear the persistent knocking at my door. Glancing at the clock, I'm surprised that several hours have already passed. Grumbling as the knocking continues, I realize that it's probably Rose and Alice wanting to check up on me. Although appreciative of their good, yet misguided intentions, I wish that they would just leave well-enough alone. They need to accept that I'm not interested in analyzing the details of last night or any other aspect of my life for that matter. Sitting quietly, I wait to see if they'll leave, but when the knocking continues, I begrudgingly get up from the table.

"Jesus, I hear you already! Shouldn't you girls still be in bed?" I yell, stomping towards the door.

Swinging it open, I'm about to spit out a sarcastic comment, but stop short when I see an empty stoop. Looking around for the person who, only a moment earlier was banging on my door, I suspiciously see nothing. Their sudden departure is a bit disconcerting given they seemed so intent on getting my attention in the first place. The person must have run off as soon as they heard my voice. Feeling unsettled, I slip into some shoes to see if I can spot anyone from the sidewalk. Stepping forward, I almost trip on two bags laying right outside of the door. Being so intent on looking for the mysterious visitor, I had completely missed them.

Cautiously, I kneel and pick up the first bag while continuing to glance around for the person who left it. Seeing the graphic for "Tartine Bakery" on the front turns my anxiety into curiosity, especially when I find several of their morning buns nestled inside. The baked treasure is a bit surprising considering you have to wait in line for a significant amount of time to get them. Given that they are still warm, the person was also able to travel quickly between the Mission District and here. Turning the bag around, I find a folded piece of paper with my name taped to the back. The familiar scrawl adds to my shock, but solves the mystery of its arrival.

Edward.

Still kneeling and holding the note in my hand, I contemplate what to do next. Do I leave everything here, or cave to the increasing curiosity of wanting to know his intentions? Deciding that I have to know, I shakily open the paper.

_Bella,_

_I was remembering this morning how the world used to fade away when you focused on a case. So much so that I would have remind you to stop and eat. When I passed by Tartine, I thought that you could probably use something to keep your energy up. Besides, even the most self-reliant of individuals deserve a treat from time to time._

_As for the lock, well, I know from experience that sometimes you just need a place to start. Your strength always inspired me, and I still see it, Bella. It's not lost._

_You have every right to hate me, and I understand why you don't want to talk. I just hope that someday you allow me a chance to explain. I don't want to push you, but I also want you to know that I'll be waiting no matter how long it takes._

_Yours, Edward_

Grabbing the other bag and ripping it open, I find a new lock and the tools necessary to change out the old one. Staring at the page, I become more enraged as I analyze each word. Fuck him if he thinks I need his pathetic gestures or words of wisdom. I don't understand his game. He was the one who walked away, not me. Looking around again, the prickling sensation of being watched creeps up my spine. I know he is out there, I can almost feel him. Stuffing the note in my pocket, I leave the bags on the porch and walk back into my house making sure to slam the door as a message to spying eyes.

Safely inside, I slide to the floor, his cryptic words from last night still echoing in my ears. Hitting my head against the door, I try to reign in my emotions, refusing to let Edward be the reason that I finally break down. Forcing myself to get up, I secure the lock, and march over to the living room.

Pacing back and forth, I try to temper the fury boiling in my veins. After years of hearing nothing, he barges right back into my life acting as if nothing happened, as if he's still the person who loved me like no other. My body feels restless, almost electric, the exact opposite of the exhaustion I felt this morning. Sitting heavily in the reading chair, I eye the door warily trying to decide my next move.

Glancing to the left, I spot the picture of my dad and I at my law school graduation. We are smiling, our arms wrapped tightly around each other. The picture was a present, the message around the silver frame specifically crafted. The top and sides are engraved with different parts of the phrase, "Think it, believe it, do it" with the date residing at the bottom. It was something my dad would tell me when I was feeling down or defeated. It's funny how I've let myself forget it recently. Picking up the picture, I stare into my father's eyes, feeling an overwhelming combination of comfort and loss at seeing the passion and happiness reflected back.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I whisper. "I wish you could tell me what to do."

As if on cue, my stomach grumbles loudly, reminding me that I have done exactly what Edward suspected and forgotten to eat. The sight and smell of the morning buns invade my senses making it hard not to salivate at the thought of tasting one. They are one of my favorites, and right outside.

"A place to start," I mumble reciting Edward's note, chaotic energy still pulsing through my body. With everything I need literally on my doorstep, I have no more excuses to feed my procrastination. Deep down, I know that I need to do this and face the reality that my father's not here anymore.

"Think it, believe it, do it," I whisper, starting at the door intently.

It would be nice not to have to worry about the lock anymore, and there is no way I can focus on legal documents right now. Besides, chances are that he left right after I shut the door. "So really, Edward won't even know that I ended up taking the bags," I argue to no one, trying to rationalize my sudden change of thought.

Pushing out of the chair, I walk back to the door and peek out. The bags are right where I left them. Looking around and finding nothing but an empty sidewalk, I quickly snatch them up and walk back inside. After grabbing another cup of coffee, I place a couple of buns on a plate and move back to the living room to sit on the floor. Surrounded by instructions, tools, and lock parts, I silently face my first demon.

_Opening my door cautiously at the unexpected knock, I'm surprised to find three officers in dress blues. At first, I think that they are there to take me to a crime scene, until I see the gold cross on the collar of the man in the middle. My stomach drops._

_"Miss Swan?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"We're here on behalf of the Seattle police department. Can we come in?"_

_"Just tell me," I growl. "He's dead isn't he?"_

_At the regretful nod of their heads, I fall to the floor._

I let the emotions of the memory wash over me as I focus my attention back on the lock. "I can do this."

My dad wanted me to be self-sufficient. Girls are just as capable as boys are, he would say. When I moved into this house, he came down specifically to teach me all the basics of home repair so that I wouldn't have to rely upon repairmen. Ironically, he was always okay with being the exception to the self-reliant rule. I know he secretly loved it when I asked him over for the weekend to lend a hand with some random project. I didn't realize how much having him available meant to me until he was no longer here to call.

_"Okay, Bells, no matter how easy you think something is, always read the instructions."_ My dad's voice echoes in my head.

I smile remembering the time I thought I could fix my leaky sink without researching first. Stupidly, I decided that since I had a law degree, I was smart enough to figure out how to tighten a pipe. It took only one wrongly placed gasket and a wet kitchen for me to learn the importance of reading instructions. My dad never let me live the incident down.

_"Make sure you have all the parts and tools you need before you start."_

Laying out all the parts and tools, I carefully count and check it all off. Edward certainly thought of everything, and by the feel of the lock, he spared no expense. This is top-notch and appears unbreakable. He continues to show nothing but concern for my well-being, yet I still don't understand the intentions behind it. His recent behavior certainly doesn't match the heartlessness he showed when he walked away.

_"Home improvement is a great stress reliever. In a world full of things out of your control, sometimes the simple act of completing one project can give you a little more strength to take on other battles."_

My dad's words of wisdom break through the difficult thought. As always, he is right. I can't change what happened, I can't control Edward, but I can change this damn lock. Maybe tackling this demon will give me the strength to tackle another.

A half-hour later, I stand back and look at my work with a sense of accomplishment. I can almost hear my dad's "I'm impressed" whistle as I lock and unlock the door with ease. He would be proud, and knowing that alleviates a bit of the darkness that was threatening to consume me earlier. Leave it to Edward to light the fire I needed to take this first step. I honestly don't know if I love or hate him for it.

Satisfied with the job and feeling a sense of unexpected calm, I walk into the house to get back to work on the case. I still have a lot to do before Monday. Heading back to my kitchen table, I smile as I pass by the picture.

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

 

Glancing at my watch, I groan realizing there is no way I will make it on time for my meeting with Sam. Juggling a couple of files that didn't fit into my briefcase, I quickly navigate my way to his office. Stopping right outside of the door, I take a moment to regain my composure and straighten my rumpled jacket before lifting my fist to knock.

"Enter," a deep and commanding voice responds. His tone reminds me of a principal calling a kid into their office.

Opening the door, I walk into the brightly lit, pristine, and organized office. There is not a spot of dust, dirt, or clutter anywhere. Sam either comes from a military background, or has OCD because no one's office should ever look this clean. Behind a spotless wooden desk sits a striking man with jet-black hair, olive skin, and dark brown eyes. When he stands up, I get the full picture of his impressive stature. He is tall, and although not as bulky as Emmett, is clearly in shape.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan from the US DOJ's office."

Sam walks over and stiffly shakes my hand. "Ms. Swan, I'm Sam Uley. It's nice of you to finally make it." He sneers with disdain.

Remembering what Rose said this weekend, I bite my tongue from popping out a snarky comment in return. I need him on my side. "I'm sorry Agent Uley. It won't happen again."

Sam simply grunts and motions for me to sit in one of the chairs. "Let's just get started," he grumbles returning to the chair behind his desk. Jerk.

"Fine by me," I say sitting taller. With another dismissive glance from Sam, I feel a spark of determination. I will not allow him to intimidate me; I will prove that I am worthy of this case.

"I've investigated Biers for three years. I think you will find that the case is in order."

"Actually, there are a few issues to resolve before I can take this to court."

Sam leans back in his chair, anger flashing across his face. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but—"

"I am the prosecutor, and it is my job to know what will or what will not succeed in court. I'll respect that you know how to investigate a case, but I know how to prosecute one, and I'm telling you, there are holes that will give the defense a valid argument to overturn the evidence."

"Saying that there are 'holes' challenges my work as an agent!" Sam growls, his fists flexing and tightening on the desk. He obviously doesn't like being challenged, but he and his ego will just need to get over it.

"You don't think that his defense attorneys won't? Riley Biers doesn't have a burnt out public defender. He has a team of high-priced attorneys who will dispute every single piece of evidence!" I pause, realizing that I need to calm down too. Bumping heads isn't helping anything. "Look, there's enough evidence to get us through the grand jury, but once we get into court the defense will hammer us. You have more on his lackeys than on Biers directly. That means a slam-dunk case of plausible deniability. I want to crucify him, not his organization."

Sam glares across the desk, his nostrils flaring. "Going after his organization is the best way to get to him."

"I don't disagree, but we need a stronger connection between him and those people. Much of what you have is circumstantial. I need more. So how about we cut all the crap and just work together? I'd like to think that we have the same goal here, and this," I emphasize waving my hand between us, "is getting us nowhere."

"You certainly don't back down, do you?"

"Not when it's something I believe in."

"You need more?" he asks.

"I need more," I state, watching him pull out several files from his desk.

"Fine," he mutters flipping through documents.

I watch with fascination as he goes through each file, the clock ticking away while we sit in an awkward silence. His frustration increases with each page before he finally slams all the files closed with a thunderous smack of his hand.

Looking up, a bitter smile breaks his stoic expression. "Well, counselor, you certainly know your stuff. I was prepared to prove you wrong, but you're right. The strongest evidence we have is against his team."

I barely stop myself from bursting out with a gratifying, I told you so. It's not the most professional option for a comeback, and probably won't earn me any favors. "I know my job."

"That you do," Sam concedes gruffly. "I guess I owe you an apology. I should have heard you out."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I say, hoping that we can finally get past this tension and focus on the case.

"I've had a really crap morning, and hearing you challenge a case that I've busted my ass on probably pissed me off more than it should have." Getting out of his chair, he moves around to lean against his desk right in front of me. "You're right, if we are going to do this, we need to work together. Tell me what gaps to fill in. I want this asshole more than you could know."

"Okay," I agree, relieved at the sincerity I hear in his voice. "How about we start by going through the evidence together step by step?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam nods his head. "Okay. But before we do that, how about we start over?" he asks, reaching out his hand with a charming grin. "Sam Uley, it's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan."

Looking down at his offered hand, I can't help but laugh at the gesture. "Agent Uley, I've heard good things. I'm looking forward to working with you. And, please, call me Bella."

"Call me Sam," he says holding my hand firmly. "You've heard good things huh? Guess I really need to make up for earlier then." He stretches around to grab several files. "You ready to take this son of a bitch down?"

We work for several hours comparing our notes and ideas on the best way to proceed. It's clear that Sam knows this case inside and out, however, as I feared there are still too many gaps for my liking. Riley is too good at keeping his hands clean. I intend to ask for the death penalty, so I need iron clad evidence and we don't have it yet.

"Okay, all the words on this page are blurring together. Let's take a break and get some lunch," Sam suggests, disrupting my concentration on the financial file I'm reviewing.

"Umm, sure. What's good around here?"

"A lot, but my favorite is probably this amazing Chinese restaurant a few blocks away."

"How is their moo shu pork?"

Sam looks at me with a wide smile. "A girl after my own heart. That is one of their best dishes. Want to come with me to pick it up?"

"I could stand some fresh air," I say getting up to grab my jacket.

Following him out of the building, we fall into a comfortable conversation. My impression of Sam was way off. He is much more easy-going than he first appeared. He has a great sense of humor, and his obvious love of reading gives him a wide base of knowledge to discuss a variety of topics. I can't help but enjoy the deep discussion, and by the time we reach the restaurant, it feels like we've solved all the world's problems.

After picking up our food, Sam unexpectedly changes the topic. "I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds, but I heard about your dad. I'm sorry." His comment shocks me. I didn't expect him to know anything about it. Sensing my surprise, he explains further. "Your dad was a well-respected detective within the law enforcement community. Word of a tragedy has a way of traveling fast."

"Oh." The pain in my gut that was missing earlier suddenly returns.

"Did they find the guy who did it?"

"Umm, no. The case is still open. Seattle P.D. believes that he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's not a lot to go on in regards to the suspects."

"If I can help out let me know. The bureau has a lot of resources, and I'm sure the director would be happy to lend a hand."

"Thanks," I say dismissively not wanting to talk about it anymore.

We walk for a couple of minutes before Sam breaks the silence. "I lost my mom a couple of years ago. It was hard, but you know what I hated the most?"

I look up, staggered by his unexpected revelation. "What?"

"People trying to make me feel better. I just wanted to get on with my life. I'm a special agent for God's sake, I didn't need my hand held. But all of sudden my friends and family treated me like I was sick. Fucking pissed me off. Sometimes you just need to leave well enough alone, you know."

"Yeah, I do," I whisper. No one, not even those closest to me, has understood, yet somehow Sam is able to summarize it precisely.

Sam stops, reaching out to grab my arm gently. "If you ever need to escape, just give me a call. I learned a few tricks that helped me get through the worst of it."

I'm surprised his actions don't irritate me as much as it does when others have made similar suggestions. Maybe it's because he's the first one that seems to understand what I'm going through.

"I may take you up on that," I answer truthfully instead of just placating him as I have so many others.

"I don't know what it is about you, Bella. Even though you've spent the entire morning challenging me, which I really hate by the way, I still really like you," Sam comments with a sarcastic grin, breaking up the serious moment.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I'm awesome," I joke back. It feels good to laugh again.

"And don't forget modest." He laughs before letting go of my arm to start walking again. Chuckling along with him, I realize that I've laughed more today than the last few months combined. Something tells me that hanging out with Sam might just be another step towards healing. Although we've just met, I can see him becoming a good friend.

After eating lunch, we spend several more hours going over the next steps. I need to work on obtaining several warrants for a few of Riley's buildings, while Sam is going to meet with his informants for intel on any up and coming activity. If we can catch Riley in the act of something major, it will solidify our case, and make it easier to show a pattern that will tie him to previous crimes.

"I have to say, Bella. I'm really impressed," Sam utters, watching me put my files back into my bag.

"What do you mean?"

"I've worked with a lot of DOJ lawyers, but you have the mind for it. I can see you working on your points, and calculating the possible arguments the defense will try to make. You definitely know how to build a solid case. Like I said, I'm impressed."

"Thanks," I mumble looking down to straighten my folders when I feel the predictable heat of embarrassment.

"I'm glad we're working together."

"Me too," I agree while attempting to grab one last file. Unfortunately, my fingers work against me, and I end up knocking my file and a couple of Sam's, to the floor. "Crap! I'm sorry." I quickly bend down to pick up the papers that scattered everywhere.

"It's okay. No worries," Sam reassures, leaning down to help.

In the process of retrieving several papers to hand back to Sam, one of the documents grabs my attention. It's a picture of an artistic looking butterfly with an Asian symbol woven into the wings. It's beautiful, and I swear I've seen before.

"What is this?" I ask holding it out to Sam.

"Oh, that's something from one of Riley's companies. He likes to use the symbol of a butterfly on lots of things. I'm not sure why, seems a bit girly to me, but to each their own I guess. Why?"

"It seems familiar."

"Hmm, it was probably in one of the files you read."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Handing Sam the last of the paperwork, I grab my files again. "I guess I better get going. I'll be in touch when I get the warrants in place."

"Sounds good. Be safe going home. It's a crazy world out there," he says seriously, walking me to the door.

"I will. You too, G-man."

"Please, I'm invincible," he jokes sarcastically, playfully bumping me with his shoulder.

"You're right, what was I thinking," I retort back with a gentle shove of my own.

All the way home, I couldn't get that picture out of my head. I know I've seen it before, and it wasn't in a file. I rack my brain trying to figure out where else I could have seen it. Suddenly, a vague memory makes my blood run cold.

"It can't be," I mutter, willing the cab to go faster.

Running into my house, I go directly to the downstairs hall closet and yank the door open. It is full of boxes from my Dad's house, most of which I've never really gone through. Jasper helped me pack them while my mind was in a haze. I remember just wanting to get it over with; crushed that the bank was foreclosing on the house I grew up in so quickly. It was devastating to lose, but Jasper had logically convinced me that it wasn't worth saving.

_"You really had no idea that things were this bad?" Jasper questions incredulously, looking over several of my dad's financial documents._

_"No, he never mentioned anything. What do I do?"_

_"I don't think you can do much."_

_"I spent most of my inheritance on that damn house. Maybe I can get a loan." My brain spins, frantically searching for options._

_"And do what, Bella? You don't live in Seattle. Even if you can save the house, which given all of his other debt I doubt you can, then what? It'd just be standing here empty. I know it's hard, but think about this rationally. It's not worth it in the end."_

Jasper didn't understand that my dad and his house were like my north star, always there to guide me in the right direction, especially after Edward left. The bank took the house away from me just as unexpectedly as someone took my dad. It was just too much to handle.

Throwing my coat to the side, I start pulling the boxes out one by one. Ripping open the tops, I frantically sift through the items, desperately looking for what I need to prove myself wrong. Finally, buried in the tenth box, I find my Dad's journal. He wrote in it religiously every day. He said putting his thoughts on paper helped him to let things go and work out problems. Flipping to his last entry, my world shatters. There in all its glory, is a pencil sketch of the same butterfly symbol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, some Edward and Bella present day interaction with a glimpse into what he's been doing.


	5. Chapter 4: Wreck of the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, LostInPA, TDS88, and Beautifulnightmarex have worked their magic on this chapter. I am lucky to have them on my team. :)
> 
> I own nothing related to Twilight, the original plot twists and turns are mine.
> 
> And now, a few more pieces to this puzzle.

Chapter 4: Wreck of the Day

_"Until we have seen someone's darkness we don't really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone's darkness, we don't really know what love is."_

_Marianne Williamson_

* * *

"No, no, no."

The journal slips from my hands and crashes to the floor. With blurring vision, I back out of the closet eyeing the book cautiously, almost as if Riley Biers himself will leap out of it. Grabbing my phone, I try to call for help, but it won't stop shaking long enough for me to swipe the screen.

"God damn it." Flexing my hand a couple of times to steady it, I am finally able to manipulate the numbers.

"Bella?" The static rushing through my ears makes Sam's voice sound far away.

"Can you come over?"

"Now?"

"I found something in my dad's journal. I think Riley had something to do with his death." The words rush out frantically.

"Are you sure?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes…no…I don't know. Can you just come over?"

"On my way. Just hang on."

Rattling off my address, I end the call realizing that my house looks like a tornado. I'd better clean up; given how clean his office was the mess would probably disturb him. Numbly, I put everything back into the boxes and hang up the jacket that I tossed so carelessly to the side. Reaching down, I carefully pick up the journal, place it on the table in the hallway, and close the closet door. Now I have nothing to do but wait.

The implications of that drawing are horrifying. I've always felt that there was more to the story, but I never in a million years considered it would involve Riley. My dad usually told me when he started a new case, yet around the time of his death, it sounded like things were quiet. If he was investigating someone as high-profile as Riley, he would have told me. _Wouldn't he?_

Glancing at the clock, I'm surprised that it's only been thirty minutes since I made the call. It feels like hours. I've already waited five months too long for any information. I don't think I can wait a minute longer, especially when Sam may finally have the answers I need.

Hearing a loud knock, I can't hold back the verbal torrent that falls from my mouth as soon as I open the door. "What if Riley killed him? You need to arrest him. We need to interrogate him. I want answers!"

"Whoa, Bella, slow down," Sam says calmly, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

"I can't slow down! Do you know what this could mean? There are no suspects in my dad's murder. None! Oh shit, I should call the Seattle P.D. They need to know about the picture." I swing around looking for my phone, trying to remember where I put the number of the lead detective on his case.

"Hey, just stop and breathe for a second." Sam slowly approaches and places his hands on my shoulders to stop my frantic movements. "Come here," he whispers pulling me into a hug. "You're shaking like a leaf."

"I just don't understand. Why would it be in his journal?"

"We'll figure it out, I promise," he replies, lightly rubbing my back.

Feeling slightly calmer, I step out of his embrace. "Okay, okay." Taking a deep breath and releasing it, finally helps to ease some of the pressure I feel. "Thanks, for coming over on such short notice."

Sam gives me a tight smile. "Anytime. Why don't you show me what you found and we can go from there."

Walking over to the table, I show him the page from the journal. "Here. I knew I had seen it before."

"You think your dad drew this?"

"He wasn't in the habit of showing that journal to anyone, so yeah, I would say he drew it," I retort tersely.

"I'm just making sure that we have all the facts. That's all, Bella."

"Of course, sorry," I whisper, deflated. "I didn't mean to snap, but this is the first solid lead I've had on his killer."

Sam looks up from the journal guardedly. "I admit it's strange that he would have it, but let's not jump to any conclusions. He might have just seen it and recreated it. Who knows if he even knew that it had anything to do with Biers."

"Are you being serious now?" I ask disbelieving.

"Yes. You want a strong case, right? We can't assume anything. We need to take this one step at a time."

"Fine. What do you suggest?"

"Let me make some calls to Seattle and see what he was investigating. I can also ask them to send me what they have on his case. I don't think they will mind the FBI looking into it. They probably want blood for his death almost as much as you do."

"I don't want blood. I just want answers," I mutter.

"Okay, Bella," Sam whispers. "We'll find them."

"Thank you." My eyes blur again with unshed tears. I thought I'd accepted that I would never know what happened to him. Apparently, I was lying to myself as much as I was lying to everybody else. Now I can't extinguish the burning desire for justice.

"He was killed off duty?" Sam asks.

"Umm, yeah. They think it was a carjacking gone bad."

"Do you know the details?"

"Some." I can't stop trembling. I've never really talked about it or allowed myself to think about the details.

"I know this is hard, but the more I know the better." Sam steps forward, reaching out again, but I step back. I don't think I can do this with him so close. The contact would be suffocating.

"He was coming back from the movies," I say quietly trying to gather the courage to continue, the words choking me. "It h-happened at a red light. Witnesses said, umm, someone…s-someone approached the driver's side. My dad's gun was on the floor by his feet. The detectives think…they think he was reaching for it when the other person shot him."

"He died instantly?" Sam questions in an interrogative manner.

"Yes."

He makes the act sound so ordinary, but for me, it's been one of my biggest struggles. My dad probably didn't suffer, which I should be grateful for, yet, his quick death prevented any opportunity I had to say goodbye.

"If there are witnesses, how are there no leads?" Sam takes out a small notebook to take notes, triggering a sense of déjà vu. The Seattle detectives had similar notebooks when they asked me questions the day after my dad's murder.

"It was too dark to give any details about the suspect. Based on size, they think it was a man, but that's about it. There were no other fingerprints on or in the car, and since it was pouring down rain, there was no way to track him or gather any trace evidence around the scene. To top it all off, the neighborhood's old and run down which means no surveillance cameras. Everything was a dead-end. Until now." I stress, wanting to switch the focus back onto the journal.

"Until now," Sam mutters looking at the page again.

"What does that symbol mean?"

"We're not a hundred percent sure. We usually find it on documents associated with his dummy corporations. We do know that the Chinese symbol in the wings means 'master' but that's about it."

"You didn't research it?" I ask incredulously.

"Of course, but he also likes butterflies. He uses variations of them on all sorts of documents with no clear rhyme or reason. It wasn't that unusual, and there were more important things to focus on than trying to figure out why Biers has a weird butterfly fetish."

"If my dad put it in his journal, it's important! How could you just ignore it?" An all-encompassing fury floods my body. _What if this 'oversight' contributed to his death?_ Stepping closer, I point an accusatory finger in his face. "How could _you_ drop the ball like that?"

Taking several steps back, Sam raises his hands in submission. "Whoa. Hold up. I did my job. It was a dead-end. I don't disagree that something's there, but before now, there was no reason to focus on it. You should know better than anyone that sometimes investigations come down to the allocation of resources. I didn't have the luxury to chase down every possible speck of a lead."

"You'll focus on it now?"

"Of course." Moving closer again, he places his hand on my shoulder and bends down to look into my eyes. "We _will_ figure this out."

I take another breath, realizing that I'm targeting my anger on the wrong person. "Okay."

"Do you mind if I take this?" he asks holding up the journal.

"Can't you just copy the page?"

"Chain of custody, counselor. I need the original, remember. Besides, there might be other entries connected to Biers. I won't let anything happen to it, Bella."

"Right, of course. Just make sure I get it back when this is all over."

"I will. You realize that if there's any connection to your dad, you'll have to recuse yourself from this case."

I nod my head in agreement. I hadn't thought that far ahead, but Sam's right. "If we find a connection, I'll talk to Newton right away."

"Good. I'd better get started on those phone calls if we're going to get any answers. Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," I respond blankly, walking Sam to the door.

He gives me a worried look before pulling me into another hug. "Call me if you need anything."

"Sure." This feels so anticlimactic. Rationally, I knew we could not solve everything tonight, but I wanted to hold onto at least one piece of tangible evidence. Instead, I'm forced into another waiting game.

"I'll call as soon as I hear anything," Sam assures, walking out of the door, holding the journal tightly. The sight nauseates me; it feels so wrong to let it go.

Shutting the door, I'm suddenly left in a silent void. I contemplate calling Jasper and Alice, but change my mind when I realize they will only ask a bunch of questions that I can't answer. I love them dearly, but they don't know how not to push.

Although Emmett is always a great distraction, I'm still not over his part at the Fillmore. He denied knowing any details about Edward's departure, but the fact that he knew about his return so quickly is suspicious to me. Those unanswered questions are just too much to ponder on top of everything else.

Still feeling too restless to sit alone, I decide to call Rose. Neither of us likes to over-analyze our emotions; it's what we bonded over early in our relationship. She may express her frustration about my behavior, but I also know she will understand that I'm not in the mood to talk about anything serious. Rose, wine, and a stupid movie might just be the perfect cure for tonight's ails.

On the fourth ring, she answers quietly sounding preoccupied. "Bella?"

"Hi. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm on a stakeout so I don't have long."

"Oh right, I forgot. The Crowley case?"

"That's the one. I landed in L.A. today. If everything goes right, I should have this sucker wrapped up by the end of the week."

"That's great."

"So, what's going on? Are _you_ okay? I've been worried."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just calling to say hi," I lie.

"Shit, I gotta go. I'll call you later. Love you." She abruptly ends the call, leaving me alone once more. _There goes that idea._

Deciding to give up on the prospect of company, I walk over to the kitchen and place the last morning bun on a plate to microwave. I'm not hungry, but for whatever reason, it sounds comforting. Sitting at the counter, I pick at the bun impassively, trying not to focus on the difficult thoughts floating through my mind.

In the middle of the counter, I spot the crumpled note that Edward left a couple of days ago. Unconsciously I open it to re-read his words, realizing that although Edward said he's available to talk, he didn't give me a way to contact him. _Would I call if I had his number?_

The next several hours pass in a dreadful blur of mindless television. Twirling my phone awkwardly around my fingers, I anxiously wait for Sam to call with an update. The phone, however, remains frustratingly silent. Around midnight, I finally give up and go to bed.

Without any solid answers, my sleep is restless and filled with shadowy figures. Exhausted and shaken from my nightmares, I find myself walking over to the bottom left drawer of my dresser, the one that I've purposely ignored for years. Slowly opening it, I sort through the neatly folded clothes that Edward left behind, looking for an old favorite.

Taking out the worn Stanford sweatshirt, I pull it over my head and sniff the sleeves wishing it still smelled like him. The irony of the thought is not lost on me given that his familiar scent was so upsetting just a few days ago. Shuffling back to my bed, I snuggle into the blankets and with the memory of Edward's comfort enveloping me, finally fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hopping awkwardly towards the door, I cram my foot into the uncomfortable heel that goes with my dress as the horn of the cab continues to blare. Nothing about today has gone right. Still not hearing back from Sam, I spent the day in a preoccupied fog trying to complete reports and obtain warrants. Having lost track of time, I now find myself rushing to get to Alice's charity event at the museum. The event is huge publicity for them, and the first one she's done since transferring there several months ago. Depending on the outcome, it could make or break the museum, and I promised that I'd be there to support her.

The cab honks again as I grab my jacket. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't leave." I yell, rushing out the door waving my arm to get the driver's attention before he gives up on me.

Jumping into the back, I quickly regurgitate the address to the impatient cabbie. Ignoring his mumbled grumbles from the front seat, I pull out a small mirror to do a final check. The reflection staring back is almost unrecognizable. My face is drawn and haggard from lack of sleep. Prominent dark circles mar the skin under my eyes. I look… hollow. Slamming the compact shut, I lean back and push the disconcerting emotions away. The possible connection between Riley and my father has shaken me, but my priority tonight is being there for Alice.

Arriving at the museum, I throw some cash at the driver and rush towards the entrance. Huge spotlights illuminate a prominent red carpet for the who's who of San Francisco to stroll and have their picture snapped by several local news outlets. Walking quickly, I ignore the reporters' questions and requests for an interview. I don't have the patience for polite small talk tonight.

Walking inside, the sight is awe-inspiring. The decorations have a contemporary, yet classic feel with strings of fairy lights and hundreds of candles creating a warm and embracing glow. Hundreds of guests mingle happily while the classically dressed waiters roam the party with trays of drinks and delicate hors d'oeuvres. Alice has done a fantastic job.

As soon as Alice sees me, she rushes over, panic enveloping her entire body. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." Her words rush out in a frantic whisper.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" I ask, grabbing her hand to help ground her.

"I didn't know it was him. I wouldn't have asked you to come if I did."

Trying to decode the meaning of her pressured words, I follow her line of vision to find the source of her panic. There, standing in all his glory in the corner of the room, is Edward. My heart unconsciously flutters at the sight. The addition of his crisp black tuxedo and tie only magnifies his typically commanding presence.

After reading his note, the confusion I felt the first time I saw him is now tenfold. It also doesn't help that I found comfort in his memory last night. I don't know whether to confront him, thank him, or simply ignore him. At least before, I could just be angry at his absence.

"My assistant was in charge of communicating with the company and she never once mentioned the name Edward Cullen."

"What's the name of the company?" I ask, still trying to fathom the scene in front of me.

Edward stands tall as he mixes with the power players of San Francisco. To an outside observer he appears calm and confident, but to me, it looks as if he is putting on an act. Knowing him like I do…I ruefully shake my head at the thought. I shouldn't kid myself. I don't know Edward. It's a good possibility that the man I knew was the act, not the one before me tonight. The thought is maddening.

"Global Security," Alice answers.

"You're kidding!" I swing my eyes back to Alice. "That was his grandfather's company."

" _What_? Didn't he hate his grandfather?"

"Yes. He was doing everything he could to distance himself from his legacy. I guess he took over the company after he left." I look back over at Edward pondering what other secrets he kept hidden.

"I remember he never shared much about his family," Alice comments.

"He didn't like to talk about them," I mumble watching him closely.

"I wonder what changed his mind."

"I don't know."

Finally turning in our direction, Edward's eyes widen when he sees me. Almost taking a step, he abruptly stops, a painful look crossing his face. Swiftly, his demeanor transforms into a cool look of sophisticated indifference. He smiles slightly and nods his head as if acknowledging the presence of a business associate. The ten-second display throws me. However, he's not the only one capable of pretending, so in return, I give him my most charming grin.

Reacting to my smile, he moves forward only to stop again when an immaculately dressed women threads her arm comfortably through his. The sight causes my heart to clench even though I have no right to feel jealousy. She leans over to whispers something to him, his face pinching in response. The look reassures me that it wasn't a playful or seductive comment. Looking in my direction one last time, he reluctantly turns and walks with her into a different room.

"I'm sorry," Alice says.

"It's fine. I guess I need to get used to running into him. Don't worry about me, this is your night. The place looks amazing, Al." _Cold, indifferent, numb; I can do this_. I refuse to let my fucked up emotions ruin things for her.

"Thanks. I think it's going well."

"It's going great!" I reassure pulling her into a quick hug. "Where's Jasper?"

"Mike called him in for a late meeting. One of the cases went south and he wants Jasper to fix it." This is something that occurs all too often in our line of work, but I can still see her underlying frustration. I'm sure she was counting on his support to ease her nerves.

"Mike's a jerk. I'm sure Jasper's busting his ass to get here as soon as possible."

"Yeah, he is. He keeps sending me texts to let me know he's thinking about me and assuring me that I can do this."

"You two are just too cute," I joke. They have the type of love that all people strive to find. "I can already tell it's a huge success, so relax."

"Thank you. I should probably go check in with the caterer."

"Of course, go ahead. I'm going to circulate and eavesdrop on all the great things being said so that I can tell you later."

"You're the best. I'll come find you in a few."

Strolling around the gallery, I get lost within the art and my own thoughts. Coming upon a large abstract painting, I find myself unable to move forward, the swirling, chaotic colors pulling me in. I don't know much about art, but I imagine the artist was feeling lost when they painted it. Darkness mutes the colors, swirling black sucking everything down into its cavernous depths. It is as if the artist knew the secrets of my soul.

"Intriguing isn't it?"

I turn around to find the stony blue eyes of Riley Biers. He's the picture of arrogance and power in his black tuxedo and dark red tie. My spine straightens as I pull my face into the lines of apathy, hoping to cover my surprise. I want to ask him a million questions, but I remember Sam's warning not to jump to conclusions. Besides, if he does know something about my dad, I don't want to show my hand just yet. The less he knows the better.

"Yes it is," I state matter-of-factly.

"Do you know the artist?" An unidentifiable accent accentuates his speech, as though he's captured certain nuances during his travels but never stayed anywhere long enough to keep a specific one. The sound only adds to the mystery of his past. According to my files, Riley has periods of missing years where no one knows where he spent his time.

"No. Do you?"

"No, but I admire the color choices," he says cryptically.

Turning to look at the painting again, I can now see a menacing aspect to the blackness, some parts highlighted with drips of maroon and dark purple. He probably sees violence and pain.

"Champagne?" He asks, grabbing two flutes from a passing server. He steps closer to hand it to me, the smell of sophistication and mint overpowering my senses.

"I hear that you are an up-and-comer in the federal court system." His eyes run up and down my body, his mouth curling into a seductive smirk.

"I just do my job." I refuse to add fuel to his game.

"Working on any interesting cases?" he whispers, lifting his hand to glide his pinky along the strap of my dress.

Before I can respond, a curt voice rings out from behind me. "Riley Biers. I don't remember inviting you to this party." My body unconsciously relaxes at the sound.

Edward glides around and inserts himself seamlessly between Riley and myself. The move was obviously purposeful; Edward's defensive body language reminds me of the night he walked me home. He's in full protective mode.

"Edward Cullen. You can't blame me for wanting to confirm the rumors of your relocation. Besides, you will soon realize that in _my_ city, I can get into any event I want." Riley grips Edward's hand firmly and smiles, although it's clear there is no warmth between the two men.

"Your city? Interesting," Edward utters with a calculated grin. "I decided it was time to expand, and since San Francisco holds a special place in my heart, I thought why not start here."

"I certainly understand the pull. San Francisco is filled with beauty." Riley tilts his head to the side, once again gazing up and down my body. His stare makes me shiver. As if sensing my discomfort, Edward immediately shifts to block his view. Riley scoffs and turns his attention back to Edward. "I hear you're trying to purchase some property down by the wharf. Seems like a gamble." The wharf is one of Riley's strong holds. There is an unspoken threat lingering in his tone.

"I don't know about that. Change is a good thing, don't you think?" Edward responds cockily.

"Hmm, only time will tell, I guess." He raises his glass in a mock salute. "Well, I think I will continue to look around. You don't mind if I stay do you?"

"Why not, in fact, enjoy. This is a worthy cause, and I'm sure that an upstanding business man like yourself has plenty to donate."

"Touché," Riley laughs and walks away. Taking only a couple of steps, he turns to address me again. "Oh, I was sorry to hear about your father, Ms. Swan. I hope they find the bastards."

After dropping the ominous words, he moves forward and becomes lost in the mingling crowd. The room is suddenly stifling. As far as I'm concerned, Riley's obscure message just confirms that he had something to do with my dad's murder.

"Are you okay?" Edward whispers, looking deeply into my eyes.

"I'm fine," I whisper back, trying to regain my composure.

"Are you sure? What did he say before I came over?" Edward's hand moves to cover my shoulder, but drops quickly when I glare at it.

"Nothing. You don't need to worry about me."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "I think that's impossible," he mutters. It is hard to know if he meant for me to hear the statement. "Why did he ask about your dad? Do you know Riley well?"

"I don't know why he would ask," I lie. I need to call Sam and let him know about our conversation. Riley's question about my job also suggests that he knows we're getting ready to prosecute. This whole thing just doesn't feel right.

"You're sure?" Edward questions. He probably knows that I'm being less than forthcoming, but what does he expect?

"I'm sure. How do _you_ know Riley?" It's hard to imagine a circumstance where their paths would have crossed.

"I don't really. We've run into each other a couple of times, that's all," he says evasively.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" I snap unable to contain my frustration. I'm tired of not having answers.

"No, but it's the best I can offer right now." His face is full of regret, but he doesn't say anything else.

"Right," I mumble angrily trying to fill the awkward silence. Maybe it's best if I don't know the details. The thought of having to add Edward to my list of Riley's known associates is just too much. Clearing my throat, I decide to explore a safer topic.

"Quite the shindig. I was surprised to hear the name of the company sponsoring it," I comment with a deliberate look. Edward knows that I'm aware of his hatred towards this company. The memory has never faded; I can still feel how tightly he held onto me as he expelled his feelings by candlelight.

"Umm, yeah, a lot has happened."

"I bet," I grumble, taking a long sip of champagne.

Edward looks around the room, "Look, this isn't the best place to get into it, but –"

"You don't owe me an explanation, Edward. What you've done over the last three years is none of my business."

Edward reaches out and grabs my hand, my breath automatically hitching when I feel the familiar current. I can't believe that time has not changed it. "Bella," he whispers, his fingers gently rubbing mine.

"Edward." A throaty voice breaks the moment. "It's time to present the check."

The woman from earlier walks over and lays her hand on Edward's arm. She is even more beautiful close up. Her red gown clings to her body in all the right places, her blond hair flawlessly swept to the side with a jeweled clip. Turning back, I realize that Edward has not let go of my hand and is glaring at the woman beside him.

"I need a few minutes, Kate," he barks. His reaction solidifies my earlier belief that there is probably nothing going on between them.

"I'm sorry, but everyone is waiting. I'm sure you can get back to," she pauses giving me the once over, "this later."

"Actually, it can't wait. Will you tell them that I—"

"Edward, its fine. Go." I jump in. He swings his now panicked eyes back to mine. "Really it's fine. This event is important to Alice. I don't want anything to go wrong on my account. We can talk later."

"You promise?" he asks, his hold on my hand tightening.

"I'll be here," I reply vaguely. If waiting around to finish the conversation means I can help Alice, I'll do it, but that doesn't mean I have to talk about anything in detail.

"See, problem solved. Let's go," Kate says, grabbing Edward's arm, effectively pulling his hand from mine.

Edward keeps his focus on me. "I'll find you as soon as I'm done, okay."

"Okay," I whisper, taken aback by the desperation I see in his eyes.

As Kate leads him away, Edward turns and looks for me a couple of times, as if needing to make sure that I'm staying. Several minutes later, Alice's voice comes over the loud speakers announcing Edward's presentation. Slowly, everyone starts moving towards the small stage in the main gallery.

I linger behind for a moment, unsure of whether I want to witness his performance. Seeing it will challenge everything I thought I knew. Gathering courage, I follow the crowd, convincing myself that I need to see the truth. Hiding in the shadows, I watch as Edward glides across the stage to take command of the microphone. I'm sure hearts are swooning at the sight; his beauty is intoxicating.

"Good evening everyone, thank you for coming. How about a round of applause for our hosts?" The crowd claps wildly as Edward graciously points to Alice and her assistant. "I'm thrilled with the turn out and your huge generosity. I firmly believe that children are our most important assets and Children's United ensures that every child has the support and resource they need to reach their full potential."

His words pull on my heart, a ghost of a memory haunting me.

_"How about you? Do you see children in your future?" Edward kisses my temple as his arms tighten around me. The combination adds another dimension to the feelings in my fluttering heart._

_"I never thought much about it…until now." Reaching up, I kiss his smiling lips._

Shaking free of the memory, I focus back on the stage. Edward hands a large check to an elderly man who is the charity's representative. Both turn and smile for the photographer before shaking hands. I watch as Edward effortlessly socializes with everyone on the stage. Fascinated by his dance, the melody of a waltz plays in my head as I watch his repeated steps. Glide, shake, chat, and smile. He's obviously used to this scene.

I need to leave.

Now that the success of Alice's event is no longer in jeopardy, I feel no guilt in sneaking away before Edward tracks me down. Seeing Alice step off the stage, I weave my way closer while still trying to stay hidden from Edward's penetrating stare. Catching her attention, I wave her over.

"You okay?" she asks reaching me quickly.

"I'm fine, but I think I'm going to get going."

"Of course," she says, glancing behind her in Edward's direction. I can't fool her; she knows exactly why I want to leave.

"It was a great event, Al. This is really going to get the museum on the map."

Smiling, she pulls me into a tight embrace. "Thank you for staying."

"I would do anything for you. You're my family," I whisper.

Pulling back, she rewards me with a brilliant smile and then grabs my hand. "Okay, let's get you out of here."

"Is there a back entrance? I want to avoid the crowds and press if possible."

"Umm yeah, but we need to go that way." She points towards the room I was in earlier, which means passing by the stage again. "Just ignore him if he sees you."

"Like I would flag him down," I mutter sarcastically. "Let's go."

Alice leads me quickly through the mingling bodies. As we pass the stage, I keep my eyes focused on her, hoping that Edward doesn't spot me. Moving into the next room, I see Riley leaning against the far wall. His unyielding eyes track my movements while he talks on the phone. Picking up the pace when he throws me a sinister smile, I accidentally run into Alice.

"Are you okay?" Alice glances over her shoulder with concern.

"I just want to get out of here," I say, unable to look away from his probing eyes.

"Who's that?" Alice questions, looking over to see what's grab my attention.

"Riley Biers."

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"I have no idea," I answer vaguely, thinking about the confrontation earlier. He's obviously here to prove a point to Edward, but for what gain, I don't know.

Stopping, she pulls out her phone. "I'll have him thrown out."

"No!" I don't want Alice on his radar. "Don't get involved with this, Alice. He's not hurting anything. Just leave it alone."

She looks at me for a moment before thankfully relenting. "Okay, I'll leave it for now, but I think you should tell Jasper."

"I will," I state with a tight smile, not looking forward to that phone call. "Where is this exit?" I ask, shifting my focus back to Alice.

"It's this way, come on."

I feel Riley's gaze until Alice pulls me into a small hallway effectively breaking his line of sight. Turning the corner, I see a large door at the end with an exit sign above it.

"It leads into the alley on the side of the building. That should give you enough distance to avoid the press at the entrance," Alice states unlocking the door.

"Thanks."

"Text me when you get home."

"Will do. You did great tonight. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks. I love you, Bella."

"I love you too."

With one last hug goodbye, I step into the freedom of chilly night air. Enjoying the solitude, I lean against the wall trying to process everything that's happened recently. The fractured parts of my life are mysteriously intersecting, but the how's are unclear, and I'm not sure if there is a way to resolve it without everything falling apart.

The quiet abruptly ends when the door ricochets off the wall, jolting me back from my wandering thoughts. Startled, I turn to find Edward frantically looking around, his harried movements stopping only when his eyes find mine.

"Bella," he sighs in relief slowly walking over. "I thought you were going to wait for me?"

"Well, you don't always get what you want," I bite back bitterly, pushing away from the wall.

"I guess we're back at square one," he responds sadly.

"We never left square one! What did you expect? That you could suddenly reappear, drop off gifts, and then everything would be fixed?"

"I—," He starts before I cut him off angrily.

"You left, Edward! You! You can't just take that back."

"Don't you think I know that?" His chest moves in and out with heavy breaths. "This wasn't how I wanted to do this. I had a plan. I just needed a little more time and then I was going to come to you and explain everything." He pauses, seemingly searching for words. "Fucking Emmett," he murmurs angrily.

"You're seriously telling me that you didn't know that I'd be here tonight? At Alice's event?"

"I didn't know she worked here, I swear. My assistant worked out all the details. It would seem that the world is working against me," he scoffs cynically.

"Well then, screw your plan. Explain it to me now."

He pauses, a strange combination of hope and fear shining in his eye. "I had to leave. In many ways, I really didn't have a choice."

"You _had_ to leave? With no warning? No goodbye? Why? So you could run the company you swore you'd never work at? So you could associate with the likes of Riley Biers? Sounds like a cop-out to me."

"That's not what happened," Edwards argues taking a step closer, frustration rolling off him.

"Are you or are you not running your grandfather's company?"

He hesitates, silently opens his mouth several times before finally conceding. "Yes."

"Then what else is there to say."

"A lot damn it!" he yells pacing back and forth. "Fuck, I shouldn't be here with you. This is not how I wanted this discussion to go. But as soon as I saw you…I couldn't…walking away again wasn't an option."

"You're not making any sense." He obviously wants to tell me something, but his words aren't connecting. "What about all of your plans? Jesus, you were on the eligible employment list at the S.F.P.D. and had finally taken a stand against your family. How does that suddenly change? How do you end up right where you never wanted to be?"

Edward barks out a sour laugh. "Believe me, I've asked myself that same question more often than you could possibly know." He looks up with solemn eyes. "I've learned the hard way that you can't always run from your past, but I'm trying like hell to fix it. Except nothing is working out the way I planned."

An agonizing breath escapes my lips. "Well, welcome to the club," I retort, sarcasm scorching my words.

"Bella, that's not what I meant. I'm not minimizing what you've been through." Edward quickly back pedals.

"You don't know shit about what I've been through!"

Realizing he's crossed a line, Edward steps back, remorse flooding his face. This probably doesn't fall in line with his _grand_ plan either. A loud ringtone interrupts the uncomfortable standoff. Keeping my eyes trained on Edward, I pull my phone out of my purse.

"What?" I yell into the device.

"Are they serving anything else at this bash beside tiny pieces of toast with stuff on it?" A disembodied voice comments as though we're already in the middle of a conversation.

"Sam?"

"Where the hell are you? This art is freaking me out."

"You're here?" I ask incredulously. Edward stares at me curiously.

"Yes, and I've been trying to find you for a while. I'm about to start a round of Marco Polo, which by the looks of the guests won't go over too well. Something tells me that they are not your typical Marco Polo crowd. So, how about we avoid embarrassment and you can just tell me where to find you."

"Marco Polo? Really?"

"It's a classic."

The ridiculous nature of his comment makes me laugh. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

"Jasper Whitlock. I stopped by your house, but when you weren't there, I called your office to see if you were working late. He told me where you were when I explained that I had some critical information."

"Why didn't you just call my cell?"

"I guess that would have been easier," he remarks chuckling. "But once I knew where you were, I decided to come here instead. I didn't think you wanted to discuss this over the phone."

"Is it about—"I stop still looking at Edward, deciding not to talk about my father in front of him.

"Your dad," Sam says, answering my unspoken question. "I thought you'd want to know right away."

"Yeah I do. I'm in the alley on the side of the building. Ask for Alice Whitlock, she'll tell you how to get here."

"Okay, see you in a bit," he answers quickly before ending the call.

"Who was that?" Edward asks as soon as I hang up.

"Just a FBI agent I'm working a case with."

"And he came _here_ to see _you_?" Edward asks suspiciously.

"I guess so," I answer evasively.

Before Edward can ask for clarification, the door swings open. "You're a hard woman to track down." Sam stops suddenly realizing that I'm not alone.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything." Sam glances at Edward, looking him up and down. Edward's stands taller in response.

"You're not."

Edward's eyes swing back to mine. "Bella," he says quietly stepping forward again trying to keep Sam out of the conversation. "I don't want to leave things like this. Can we go somewhere? I'll go anywhere you want."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I contend trying to ignore his anguish.

"Please," he begs stepping even closer. I can almost feel his body heat; the electricity between us tangible.

"Everything okay?" Sam questions, breaking the undeniable pull I feel towards the man in front of me.

"Everything is fine." Edward responds icily turning to glare at him.

"Its fine," I reassure Sam, using the distraction to back away from Edward. It's hard to think with him so near. "Edward, I'd think it would be best if we talk another time."

"When?" Taking half of a step forward he abruptly stops, begrudgingly respecting the distance I just created.

"I don't know. I'll let you know."

Edward stands stiffly, his hands flexing at his sides. I know he wants to argue, but he also understands that it won't get him far. I've always done things in my own way and in my own time. Ironically, Edward used to love that quality. I suspect he also knows that it will be his biggest roadblock.

"Okay, but I'm not going anywhere."

Edward reaches out and pulls me towards him. My brain doesn't fully register the intention behind the move until his lips are already on mine. His left arm wraps me in a gentle caress, as his right hand reaches up to cup my face. I'm lost. My body ignites in long forgotten sensations. Lust, desire…love. Then just as quickly, he drops his arms to let me go.

"I know you feel that as much as I do, Bella. It's never gone away."

I gape at him stunned. I can't deny the power of the kiss, but my logical mind reminds me that it doesn't change anything.

Sam clears his throat loudly before I can find the words to respond. "I think the lady said she wanted to go," he says gruffly, moving to stand next to me.

"I don't think that this conversation is any of your business," Edward snaps, stepping into Sam's space, his stance taking on a deadly air. It scares me.

Instead of waiting for things to escalate, I quickly grab Sam's arm to drag him away. "Come on, let's go."

"Fine," Sam spits out, reluctantly following my lead.

"Goodbye, Edward," I utter. His eyes locked on my every movement.

Before I can get far, Edward grabs my arm to stop me. "Bella." His fingers rub my wrist, the sensation making it difficult to concentrate.

"Please," I whisper, noticing Sam's shifting stance. I have to separate these two before things spiral out of control. "Let me go."

"I'm not giving up. I'm going to fix _everything_ , I promise."

His grip loosens, but he doesn't let go completely. Walking backwards, my hand slowly slips through his fingers until the distance finally separates us. He glances quickly to Sam before looking back with an impenetrable stare.

"Remember, Bella, things aren't always what they seem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did Sam find out and what will Edward do next? Find out next !


	6. Chapter 5: Say Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shout out to Nic and TLS. I'm honored that you rec'd this story on your site. :)
> 
> Beautifulnightmarex, TDS88, and LostInPA deserve some extra gratitude this week. Work was a bit crazy so I got this one to them late, and they still turned it around in time to keep on schedule. They rock!
> 
> As usual, I own nothing, but it would be awesome if I did.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Say Something

_"I asked her if she believed in love, and she smiled and said it was her most elaborate method of self-harm."_

_Benedict Smith_

* * *

_The ebb and flow of the waves hypnotically rock the surfboard as the swells crash around me. The contrast of the unusually warm mid-morning sun and cold water makes me feel alive and invigorated. The calming sensations and picture perfect visual is exactly the reason I come out here after a particularly difficult week._

_"So, this is your stress reliever?" Edward asks sitting beside me on his own board._

_"Yup. It's so humbling looking out across the ocean. It reminds me to keep things in perspective. Surfing is all about just being, you know. The more you fight, the more difficult it becomes. But when you let go and follow the rhythm of the waves, great things happen."_

_"You sound like a Zen master," Edward teases, splashing me._

_"Shut up! I'm trying to have a spiritual moment here," I retort, splashing him back with a little more force._

_"Oh really. That's how it is, huh?" Edward taunts, dramatically dipping his hand into the water preparing to splash me again._

_"Don't even—"_

_"What?" he asks innocently._

_I open my mouth to give him another warning when a huge wave crashes over me. Recovering quickly, I reach over and push him off his board, his legs flailing as he falls awkwardly into the surf. The victory is short-lived, however, when something unexpectedly pulls on my leg, my body plunging into the water before I can counter the unexpected attack. Breaching the surface again, I come face to face with a grinning Edward._

_"You think that's funny, huh?"_

_"I think it's hilarious," he laughs._

_Reaching out, I try to push his head under, but he skillfully thwarts my move by grabbing me and pulling me in. "Careful now. We don't want to drown," he warns huskily, our noses close enough to touch._

_The fire in his eyes makes my body shiver before his mouth descends upon mine. The kiss deepens as I wrap my legs around his waist. He tastes like salt, ocean, and Edward; the combination strangely exciting._

_"As much as I'm enjoying this, we will definitely drown if we keep this up." Edward mumbles running his lips down my neck._

_"You're no fun." I pout. "It's quiet out here today. Where's your sense of adventure?"_

_"Hmmm, adventurous. I'll have to remember that when we're not in the Pacific Ocean, attached to surfboards and dressed in wet suits. Not the easiest place to have some 'adventure'."_

_"Details," I murmur begrudgingly getting back on my board. "But once we're back on land…" I trail off with a pointed look._

_"Ms. Swan?! I do believe you are propositioning me." He winks before easing himself back on his board as well._

_"Maybe," I respond flirtatiously._

_"I think this salt air brings out your feisty side. I like it." Pulling my surfboard closer, he leans over to give me another passion-filled kiss. Accidentally tilting the board, I almost fall into the water again. "Careful," he murmurs running his nose along my cheek._

_"For someone so concerned about drowning, you really aren't helping things." Paddling out of his reach, I decide to change the topic for both of our sakes. "Okay, I shared my favorite stress reliever. What's yours?"_

_"Probably running. It's a great way to pound out the stress, but I like this too. It's been a while since I surfed so thanks for taking me out here. I really needed it today."_

_Several hours ago, Edward showed up at my house an agitated mess. It was the first time I had seen him that upset. All he wanted to do was hold me, refusing to tell me what was wrong. After an hour of agonizing silence, I decided that he needed a distraction._

_"What had you so stressed earlier?" I ask cautiously._

_Edward focuses on the horizon for a moment before answering. "My family."_

_"You never talk about them."_

_"It's not an easy subject." His jaw clenches, the words barely escaping his lips._

_"I'm here to listen if you want to talk."_

_Edward keeps his focus ahead, saying nothing. Just when I'm about to apologize for pushing, he finally speaks._

_"My grandfather is a cruel man," he starts lowly. "All he cares about is money and power. He expects, no, demands that I follow in his footsteps."_

_"What about your parents? What do they think?"_

_"Esme and Carlisle?" he scoffs. "My sperm donor of a father ran off when I was five. I don't think my mother ever recovered from his betrayal. After he left, we moved in with my grandfather. Being back in that house changed her. It was as if she became a ghost. She stopped standing up for herself and grew more attached to material things. After years of trying to help her, I finally accepted that the mother I remember when I was little died the day my father abandoned us. Besides, if there were any parts of her left, she decided to finish them off with pills and booze. As far as I'm concerned, she's dug her own grave," he spits out harshly, holding the board tightly._

_"I'm sorry," I whisper reaching across to rub his neck, my fingers gliding through the bottom of his wet hair trying to soothe his anger._

_It's hard to know exactly what to say. I knew his family was a sore spot, but I can see that this is crushing him. It makes me appreciate my dad even more. He worked harder after my mother died to make sure he could provide everything that I needed. I don't want to think about how different my life would be if he had given up. My dad is always my biggest supporter, whereas it sounds like Edward never has anyone in his corner. Maybe I can be that for him now._

_"What happened today?"_

_"A lecture about expectations," he pauses exhaling loudly. "He actually wants to meet you. My mother must have mentioned something to him."_

_"When?"_

_Edward turns to me with wide eyes. "There's no way I'm going to allow him near you. I won't let that world touch you, Bella, no matter what I have to do."_

* * *

The long forgotten conversation now takes on a different context. I should have paid more attention to what he was saying. Maybe then I would have a better understanding of what is happening now. It's hard to look into Edward's eyes and not see the man I fell in love with. If only I could reconcile that with his behavior. Is that what he meant about not everything being as it seems?

Walking out of the alley with Sam, I can't help but glance back one more time. Edward hasn't moved, but is in the middle of what looks like a heated conversation on his phone. As if sensing my gaze, Edward raises his head, his eyes piercing as he tries to communicate all the things left unsaid.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks, breaking the spell.

"Umm, there's a diner a few blocks down. It's usually slow this time of night."

"Sounds good." Turning the corner, we walk closely side by side, his arm brushing mine from time to time.

"Go ahead. I know you want to ask," I voice defensively.

"I do have a curious nature," he smirks sarcastically before becoming serious again. "It looks like there's a story there."

"That's the understatement of the year," I grumble.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I honestly don't even know where to start."

"Who is he? I swear I've seen his face before."

"Edward Cullen."

"Cullen? As in the Cullen that runs Global Security?" Sam stops, grasping my arm to halt my movement.

"Yes," I say tentatively. "You know it?"

"Global Security has been on the FBI watch list for years."

"For what?"

"A wide range of suspicious behaviors. The company has associations with several high-powered crime organizations. It's widely believed that they are dirty, but there's no concrete proof."

"How long have they been under investigation?" I ask cautiously, my heart pounding. _What will I do if he says within the last three years?_

"Decades." Sam replies to my relief. "The founder and CEO was the suspected mastermind behind their illegal activity. He was also quite the evil puppeteer from what I understand. When he passed away a few years ago, the agents working the case thought that Global would be out of the game. Then all of sudden, his grandson, your friend I assume, stepped in. How well do you know Cullen?"

"I don't know," I whisper. My head is swimming with questions and possibilities. _His grandfather is dead?_

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I thought I knew who Edward was, but now…I just don't know."

"Well, I recommend steering clear, especially when we are trying to solidify the case against Biers. Between that and the suspicions about your dad's murder, your involvement could ruin any chance of a conviction."

"I know." He's right, it's time for me to step away from the official investigation. His statement, however, fuels another question. "Is there a connection between Riley and Edward?" I'm intrigued that he would make such a comment given that he didn't witness the confrontation earlier.

"From what I understand, they run in the same circles, but I haven't found any direct connections during my investigation. Although it sounds like Global has a little more finesse in how they go about things compared to Biers."

"What do you mean?"

"Biers isn't necessarily subtle with his actions. Global Security is all ghosts and myths. Biers' case is challenging, but Global is almost impossible to get a handle on."

"I see."

His description fits with what I witnessed between Edward and Riley even though the implications are hard to stomach. Regardless of our personal history, I can't wrap my head around the idea that Edward would involve himself in something illegal. It goes against everything I thought I knew about him.

An unintentional bump by a passerby reminds me of the public nature of our current location. "How about we continue our conversation at the diner," I suggest, glancing around at all the people.

"Of course," Sam agrees, releasing my arm so we can go.

It takes several minutes to get to the hole-in-the-wall eatery, both of us walking in an uncomfortable silence. As I suspected, it is practically empty this time of night. A few patrons are eating at the bar while a couple of others are at tables enjoying quiet conversations. The smell of fresh coffee and sinfully greasy food fills the air. The relaxed atmosphere makes me a feel a bit out of place in my fancy dress, although no one seems to acknowledge our presence as we walk through the room. Finding a booth in the back corner, Sam and I sit across from each other and order a cup of coffee from a perky waitress.

After she walks away, I get down to business. "What did you find out? Was my dad investigating Riley?"

"No," Sam says fidgeting in his chair nervously.

"What aren't you telling me?" My heart beats wildly watching him struggle. I know that look; he's preparing to tell me something bad.

"I talked to the lead detective. He was more difficult than I expected about releasing any information. After a couple of heated phone calls and involvement from some higher-ups, he finally agreed to share what he knows."

"And?" I ask impatiently. I don't care about the politics, I just want some answers.

"How much do you know about your dad's finances?"

His question throws me. "Umm, a lot. I've had to deal with them since his death."

"Then you know how bad things were."

"Y-yes," I respond suspiciously, not liking the direction this conversation is taking.

"Listen, Bella. I don't know exactly how to tell you this without just coming out with it."

"What is it?" I can't fathom what is making him so nervous. Was someone after my father? Are they covering something up?

He takes another moment before raising his eyes to mine, holding my stare. "While investigating your dad's murder, Seattle PD found some troubling things in his personal life. It triggered an Internal Affairs investigation on your dad and other officers in his squad."

It takes a while to process his words. I know that I must have heard him wrong because what I think he said doesn't make any sense. "What the hell are you talking about?" I growl.

"Bella, they think that he was involved in some illegal activity."

My vision narrows, focusing on Sam's anxious face. I don't think rage covers the amount of fury swirling in my body. "My dad was _not_ dirty!"

"They found a hidden bank account, a hefty one at that. He opened it several months after his finances fell apart."

"That doesn't make any sense. He had tons of debt. Why would that be if he supposedly had all this money?" I scoff.

"Because he was smart. If he suddenly paid everything off, it would be too suspicious. He was taking out just enough to stay afloat."

"No. No!" I yell shaking my head back and forth. "You're wrong. _They_ are wrong!" A couple of the patrons turn to look at us, but I don't care.

"Hey, I get it, I do. But there are a lot of things that don't add up, especially the circumstances of his death," Sam argues.

"There's not enough evidence to prove anything, remember?" I sneer.

"Exactly! No strung out criminal looking for easy cash is going to get away that clean. And what about that drawing?"

"What the hell," I hiss leaning over the table. "You go from not wanting to draw any conclusions, to deciding that my dad was a criminal? Just like that?"

"No, I'm just saying that there are a lot of missing pieces, and I don't think we can rule anything out at this point."

"I don't need evidence to prove that my dad wouldn't do anything illegal. I know who he was."

"I understand, but your word isn't enough to clear him. Look, tomorrow I'm meeting with my director to push the possible connection to Biers and get jurisdiction over your father's case. Then I'm going to fly up to Seattle and exam what they have. I'll find the truth, Bella, I promise."

"And the truth will exonerate him," I declare, daring him to disagree. Sam simply nods his head, placating me. I know he doesn't want to give me false hope, but he didn't know my dad. They are wrong, end of story. "Will you keep in contact? I need to know what's going on."

Reaching across the table, he grabs my hand. "Of course. I'm on your side, Bella."

The sincerity I see reflected in his eyes eases my anxiety. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you're going up there."

"I told you we would figure it out. I won't give up until we have answers."

Now it's my turn to nod, the heated emotions that were churning earlier, now waning to weariness. I had hoped that Sam would find answers. Instead, all we have are more questions. It's starting to feel like this will never end.

"Let's get you home," Sam suggests.

"It's fine, I can just take a cab," I mutter throwing some cash on the table for the coffee before putting on my coat.

"I insist. What kind of guy would I be if I let a beautiful girl take a cab home this late at night?" he asks with a charismatic grin. I've come to realize that humor and charm are Sam's go to solution to ease tension.

I smile shyly at his compliment. "Okay, thanks."

Leaving the diner, we walk several blocks back towards the museum. Sam walks quietly beside me seeming to understand my need to process things internally. I'm not in the mood to talk anymore. Sam leads me to a parking lot a block north of the entrance to the museum, luckily allowing us to bypass the crowd.

"I'm right here," he utters, pointing to a dark sedan. There's a spotlight mounted on the driver's side, so I assume that this is his assigned work vehicle.

Unlocking the car, he walks around to open the door for me before walking to his side. As I get in, a moving shadow to the side of the building catches my attention. For a second, I think I see a person standing by the corner, but when I look again, nothing is there. My eyes are just playing tricks on me, my logical brain argues, although a part of me is glad that I decided to take Sam up on his offer. Maybe tonight is not a good night to travel alone.

The drive is silent, broken only when Sam asks if I'm warm enough. I'm surprised when the car slows in front of my house, in my preoccupied haze, I'd missed how far we had traveled. Double-parking along my sidewalk, Sam turns to look at me.

"I know this wasn't what you expected to hear, and you probably have a million thoughts running through your head, but try to get some rest tonight. You won't do anybody any good if you make yourself sick. Your dad would want you to take care of yourself."

The truth of his statement hurts. It just reminds me how disappointed my dad would be with my recent behavior. "I know," I whisper looking down.

Reaching over, he lifts my chin and gently places his hand on the side of my face. "It will be okay, one way or another. You're strong, Bella. I saw it the moment you walked into my office and put me in my place." Smiling, he leans across me to open the passenger door. "Now go get some sleep, and I'll call you when I get to Seattle."

"I'll try. Have a safe trip and be careful."

"I will. You take care too," he says seriously. "I'll wait here until you get inside."

Giving him a grateful smile, I get out of the car and walk quickly to my door. After unlocking it, I turn to wave, letting him know that I'm good. Standing in the doorway, I wait until he drives off before going inside and locking the door.

Ambling into the living room, I drop my purse, jacket, and step out of my shoes. I can't even pretend to care about picking them up. This is all wrong. It doesn't matter what the evidence says, my dad wasn't dirty. I knew him better than anyone else did. There wasn't a dark speck on his soul or heart. He was almost too optimistic, especially given his line of work and losing his wife so young. He wouldn't take the easy way out, and he was not a man easily seduced by money or power.

Flopping down on the reading chair, I grab the graduation picture focusing on his smiling face. "I won't let them destroy your name."

Glancing across the room, I see the legal papers piled on my desk, the ones I've not had the strength to open, not to mention the boxes hidden in my closet. What if the answers were right in front of me the entire time? I shake my head, disgusted by myself. My dad was always there to support me, and yet the one time he needed me, I fall apart.

"No more."

With determination, I stand up and walk over to my desk to grab the pile of paper. Moving to the dining room table, I shove Riley's files to the side to make some room. Taking out a fresh legal pad and pen, I sit down and start opening envelopes. If there is any information in here, I'm going to find it.

* * *

A beeping breaks through my unconsciousness. Turning my head, I groan when a sharp pain shoots through my neck and papers scratch my face. Disoriented, I sit up only to find myself at the dining room table surrounded by a dark house. Grabbing my phone, I discover that it's already eight o'clock at night. I must have passed out sometime this afternoon.

"Oh god," I mumble standing to stretch, my bones cracking loudly. Apparently, my angry body wants me to pay for sleeping in such an awkward position.

Switching on a light, I'm taken back by the impact of my frantic search. There are papers and boxes strewn between my living and dining room. Some of the items are in organized piles, while others are still in disarray. I spent all night focused on going through the documents, my desire for answers offsetting the difficulty of being surround by my father's things.

When the early morning sun started to peek into the windows, I had just started on the boxes. Not wanting to stop before I found answers, I called into work so that I could continue my quest. Even though I've gone through more than half of the boxes, I still have not found anything that would explain my dad's connection to Riley or Internal Affairs' suspicions.

Sam called earlier this afternoon, letting me know that he made it to Seattle. The detective he is meeting with had already left for the day, so he said he probably wouldn't have any information until tomorrow. After we got off the phone, he was going to visit where the shooting took place to see if Riley owned any of the buildings in the surrounding area. Although it was disappointing not to have any more information, he promised to check in around noon tomorrow to give me an update.

My blinking phone beeps again indicating several missed calls and messages. Holding the phone to my ear, I listen to the most recent one.

"Bella, we are all here waiting. I've worked on this case for a freaking year. Come on! Come play with us," Rose demands sweetly.

Going through the other messages, I piece together that Rose finished the Crowley case early, with a solid confession no less. To celebrate, the gang headed to the Fillmore for drinks. Rose's plea breaks through another barrier. Although celebrating is the last thing on my mind, I realize that I need to see my friends. It's time to stop pretending that I can do this on my own. Over the last five months I've lost sight of what matters, of who matters, and that I have always been stronger with them than without them.

After showering, I walk the familiar and busy path to the Fillmore. Tonight the rhythm of the city soothes me. It's hard to explain why, but it feels like I've finally turned an important corner. The fire I feel to clear my dad is also forcing me to look at the other parts of my life that need repair, my relationship with my friends being the most important of those.

"Bella!" Paul shouts as soon as I step into the main room. Since it's a local band night, the atmosphere is lower key than the last time I was there. Rushing over, Paul pulls me into a loving hug. "It's good to see you. Does this mean we _finally_ get to catch up?"

"Umm, I'd like that, but I'm kind of on a mission. Rain check?" Paul eyes me suspiciously. I've fed him that empty line one too many times. "I know, I've said that a lot lately, but I mean it this time."

"Uh-huh, I'm going to hold you to that," he utters giving me the once over. "You look tired, Sweetie. Are you okay?"

"No, but I'm trying to be," I answer truthfully.

Paul gives me a knowing smile. He understands the winding road of grief better than most. "Well, I guess that's something now, isn't it? Come on. Let's go find your peeps," he says throwing his arm around my shoulder.

Smiling, I look up at him. "Paul, I love you, but don't ever say the word 'peeps' again. You'll ruin your tough guy rep."

A robust laugh burst from his lips causing me to laugh along with him. "You're probably right, but I got you to smile, didn't I?" Strolling into the poster room, I spot my friends easily.

"Hey, Rosie, look who finally showed up!" Paul immediately yells across the room.

Looking up, Rose quickly moves around the table to come meet us. "You made it!"

"My job here is done, you've been successfully delivered." Paul smirks. "I should probably get back to work. Still no Emmett?"

"Not yet, he should be here soon though," Rose replies looking at her watch.

"I'll keep my eye out for him," Paul says with a wink before striding back towards the main room.

"Thank you!" I yell at his retreating form before turning my attention back to Rose's blissful face. The Crowley case was draining with lots of stalls and dead ends. She must feel relieved to have it resolved successfully. "Congratulations."

"Thanks! It went better than expected. We had enough evidence to force a confession. He was almost in a little ball crying by the time we were finished."

"Umm, prosecutor remember," I say pointing to myself. "I probably don't want to hear about what may or may not have 'forced' a confession."

Recognizing that I'm just giving her a hard time, Rose gives me a sarcastic grin. "God, I love it when they break down. Does that make me a little off?" she questions.

"Probably, but since I know exactly what you mean, at least we can be 'off' together," I joke in return.

"True! Let's go drink to that." Arm in arm, Rose and I walk back to the table where Alice and Jasper are smiling widely.

"I'm mad at you," Alice says as soon as we reach the table. "You forgot to text me last night."

"Oh, crap, I completely forgot."

"Hey, you okay? It's not like you to miss work." Jasper evaluates me closely.

Contemplating his question, the playfulness I felt earlier swiftly fades away. "Not really. I need your help."

The chatting abruptly ends as three sets of eyes look at me stunned. I don't blame them; I've given them nothing but excuses and white lies for months.

"What's going on?" Jasper asks seriously, turning all of his attention to me.

Alice gives me a supportive smile. She probably thinks that this has to do with Riley showing up last night. Opening my mouth, everything about Riley, Sam, my dad, and Edward comes rushing out in one hurried breath. It takes me several minutes, but I'm able to purge it all to the horror of my friends.

"This is bullshit!" Rose yells. "Charlie's dirty, my ass. Fuck them."

"There is no way Charlie would do that," Alice agrees.

"What has Sam found out?" Jasper asks. Although he is usually the calm in the middle of the storm, I can see rage shining in his eyes.

"Nothing yet, but I won't let this go. They can't destroy him."

"They won't, Bella. We won't let them." Rose declares crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. "We'll start our own investigation if we need to."

"Let's be realistic, Rose," Jasper warns.

"What do you mean realistic?" Rose asks defensively.

"All of us are way too close to this case. Bella, you need to recuse yourself first thing in the morning. You should have done it as soon as you suspected a connection. Riley's lawyers will be all over this as a conflict of interest. And Rose, don't you think that you suddenly getting involved will be just a tad problematic given you are one of Bella's closest friend."

"Point well taken," Rose says quietly.

"You're right," I mutter in agreement. "I should have talked to Mike today, but I don't trust anyone else besides you to take it."

"Bella, you know I can't do that," Jasper says sadly.

"I know!" I yell frustrated. "But this is my dad. I just can't turn the case over to anyone."

"What about Garrett?" Jasper suggests.

"The new guy?" I ask.

"Is he good?" Alice follows up.

"I did his orientation. He's sharp and successfully prosecuted some pretty high-profile cases in the New York Superior Court before transferring to us. Most importantly, he doesn't have any ties that the defense could use to get Riley off."

I ponder his suggestion. I need to trust Jasper's judgment and do this right. This will all be for nothing if Riley walks free. "Fine. I'll meet with Mike first thing in the morning. You have to help me convince him to give it to Garrett though."

"No problem, Mike owes me for fixing that case earlier this week."

"Well, I can at least get in touch with Sam and see if he needs any extra resources," Rose says conceding to the fact that she can't actively pursue an investigation.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Alice inquires. "I doubt that any of us will be able to just sit around and do nothing."

"I still have a lot of my dad's stuff to go through and organize. I'm hoping that there is something in there that will help shed some light on this fucked up situation."

"We can help with that, right?" Alice asks as Rose and Jasper nod their heads eagerly. "Good, we'll go to your house tomorrow after work."

Looking around the table, I'm struck with what an idiot I've been. For months I've allowed the darkness to beat me instead of seeing that light has always surrounded me. "Thank you," I whisper, overwhelmed by my feelings for them.

"Hey, that's what we're here for. Besides, I know you would do the same for any of us," Rose says reaching out to squeeze my hand.

Taking and releasing a deep breath, I decide that we need to focus back on Rose. I don't want her celebration completely disrupted. "Okay, enough of the heavy. I'm going to get something to drink. You guys good?" I ask pointing to their drinks.

"We're good for now," Jasper confirms.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Reaching the bar, I'm able to squeeze my way into an open spot. Looking at the hundreds of brightly lit bottles on the shelf, I wait for the bartender contemplating which liquid beverage I want to help ease my stress. Lost in thought, I miss the person sidling their way next to me until he's right there.

"How you doing, kid?" Emmett asks, lightly bumping my shoulder. The term of endearment is a familiar one. He's always sworn that I looked more like an intern than someone who's old enough to have graduated from law school. He's jokingly called me that since the first time we met.

A snarky comment almost falls from my lips until I see his solemn and regretful eyes. He's trying to fix things. Reminding myself that I came here to get help, I realize that putting aside our differences is more important than my pride. I owe it to my dad to focus on what matters.

"I'm here," I answer, giving him a little shove back.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I messed up. I shouldn't have invited Edward to come that night. It wasn't right for our group and it wasn't fair to you."

"You didn't expect me to show. I know you didn't do it on purpose." The words are difficult to get out. Although my rational brain understands, my emotional side is still trying to catch up.

"But I knew you were invited. I shouldn't have counted on my assumption that you wouldn't show."

"Maybe, but there's not a lot of use in hashing out the 'what if's' now."

"Are we okay?" he asks quietly.

"We will be. You're too important for me to lose."

Pulling me over, his arms encase me in a massive hug. "You mean a lot to me, you know that right?"

"I do," I whisper, squeezing him tightly. I know there is a lot to work out, but being in his arms is comforting. I need his support to get through this. He kisses my head before dropping his arms, but stays close beside me.

Wanting closure, I decide to ask him the question that's been burning in my mind. "Do you know what Edward's been doing since he left?"

Emmett stiffens besides me. For a moment, it seems that he's not going to answer, but after exhaling a loud breath, he finally speaks. "Not really." Annoyed by his vague answer, I give him a pointed look. "Seriously, Bella. I knew that he didn't want to leave, but I didn't know it had anything to do with his grandfather's company."

"You didn't keep in contact with him?"

"Not really. He would send me a message from time to time letting me know he was okay. That's how I knew when he was coming back."

"What do you think about him working for Global?"

He hesitates again, "I think that the guy I love like a brother wouldn't do anything without a good reason."

"That's an easy thing to say, Emmett, but it doesn't change that he hurt me."

"I know that and he knows that. He's not trying to avoid taking responsibility for what he did."

"You must have talked since he came back. You have to know more."

"It's not my place to say, Bella." I open my mouth to protest when he cuts me off. "You need to hear it from him, but I can tell you that he's never stopped worrying about you. It's the reason I knew the little I did when he left. He asked me to watch out for you, he wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Safe from what?"

"Anything. Everything," Emmett responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's always been concerned for your well-being."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I can't tell you that. I _can_ tell you that Edward is the best person I've ever met, and I know without a doubt that he loves you."

"Actions and words are two different things," I mutter looking down.

"Then maybe you need to take another look at his actions. Every choice he made was out of love, even the ones that don't seem like it." Looking over my shoulder, Emmett's eyes suddenly widen. "Shit. This one is not on me, I swear."

Swinging around, I spot Edward a few feet away looking sheepish, but not diverting his attention away from me.

"Of course he's here," I grumble. "You know, for someone who keeps saying that they'll give me space, he sure seems to show up a lot."

"He doesn't want to lose you. Give him a chance to explain. It doesn't mean that you have to forgive him or take him back, but at least hear him out. Neither of you will move forward until you do. And, Bella," Emmett pauses, pulling on my arm until I turn towards him again. "No matter what you decide, I will always support you."

An unknown weight lifts with his words. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hug him tightly. "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

Giving me one last smile, he turns towards Edward just as he reaches us. "Hey, man," he says reaching over to shake Edward's hand. "I'll leave you two alone." Emmett moves over so that Edward can take his place at the bar. Giving my shoulder one last supportive squeeze, he walks back to the table, where everyone else is standing staring at us.

"Bella," Edward says quietly. I can tell that he's nervous.

"How did you know where I was?" I ask curiously.

Edward rubs his neck, giving me a shy smile. "I asked Paul to call me the next time you came. I guess he's one of the few who believes that I deserve a second chance."

"He does have a lot of experience with that," I comment remembering when he visited his sister's murderer last year. He believed that the anger and hatred was poisoning his life, so he made the conscious decision to face it. Although he'll never forget, he said that letting it go and finding forgiveness was the best decision he's ever made. I wonder if I'm strong enough to do the same.

"He still gave me an ear full though. I'm not afraid to admit that has me a little concerned about certain body parts if I upset you," Edward uncomfortably chuckles. "I'm glad that he still looks out for you."

"Why did you ask him to call? I thought you shouldn't be around me?" His convoluted words and actions from last night cloud my thoughts.

"I probably shouldn't. I still have things to sort out, but I can't wait anymore. Not after seeing you…not after touching you." His hand reaches out towards my face, but drops quickly when the bartender finally comes over to take my order.

"Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?" he asks standing in front of us.

"I'll take a chardonnay," I request, before motioning to Edward in case he wants to order too.

"I'll take a Guinness," Edward says throwing some cash on the bar to cover both drinks before I can even reach for my wallet.

"At least some things haven't changed," I mumble. Edward and I use to argue all the time about who would pay. It became a game to see who could outwit the other to get to the check first.

"I'm still the same person, Bella. The same man you fell in love with," he whispers stepping closer.

"How can that be true, Edward? The man I fell in love with wouldn't be running Global Security or traveling in the same circles with the likes of Riley Biers."

"I told you—"

"I know things aren't what they seem. What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means that no matter what, you still know me better than anyone. It means that even though I made the worst mistake of my life when I left without a word, it never changed how I felt about you."

His words pull at my heart. "Edward, I don't know how to do this. I should be a grown up and hear you out, but I'm just so angry. A part of me just wants to punish you."

Edward looks at me with a sad smile. "Don't sensor yourself for me, Bella. I want to know how you feel."

"You sure about that?" I don't think Edward quite understands how deep these feelings run.

"Yes. What can I do to show you that I'm serious. That I'm here to stay?" he asks stepping close enough to feel the heat of his body.

"Tell me the truth."

"I will. I want too, just not here."

I laugh bitterly. "That figures. I really don't have time for this game. There's so much going on. I'm exhausted and I..." I trail off, not sure what else to say. I want the truth, but dealing with it and my dad, I just don't know.

"Something else is going on. What is it?" Edward asks putting his hand on my shoulder. It's hard not to lean into his touch. "Let me help you."

"Edward—"

"Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe we can start by rebuilding our friendship. I can see that you're in pain, Bella."

His hand moves around my back, pulling me into an awkward side hug. The stress of the last few days catches up to me, tears quickly filling my eyes. A part of me wants to close my eyes and pretend that it's three years ago when my life made sense. Then I could submit to his warmth, revel in his love… and my dad would still be alive. The harsh contrast of my current reality is hard to take.

"Let's go outside and get some air," Edward suggests. I nod my head, allowing him to lead me through the crowd, his arm still wrapped tightly around my shoulder.

Once outside, Edward walks over to the side of the building, away from the crowds and noise. Only when we are alone does he let go of my shoulder, allowing me some space to gather my thoughts. Chilled, I wrap my arms around my body, cursing myself for leaving my jacket inside.

"What's going on? Maybe I can help," he says softly.

"My—" I almost mention my dad, but stop suddenly remembering that Edward knows Riley. How can I trust him if I don't know their connection?

"You first, Edward. I need some answers."

"I'll tell you whatever I can."

"How do you know Riley Biers?"

Edward looks at me intently, standing a bit taller as if bracing for the fallout of speaking the truth. "For years, I'd heard his name in various conversations with my grandfather. Riley was a thorn in his side you could say. The first time I met him was about two and half years ago in Tokyo. We were vying for the same property. I guess you could say that we have a tumultuous relationship."

"So you _are_ involved in similar business dealings," I state incredulously slowly backing away.

"Not exactly. Not like you think." Edward's words rush out quickly, his hands raising to stop my movements.

"Then explain it to me."

"I—" Edward starts.

A shadow catches my attention, but not soon enough. In a flash, several things happen all at once. Callous hands grab my arms and pin them behind me, roughly pulling me back against the hard body of an unknown person. I watch in horror as another man strikes the side of Edward's head with a gun. With a painful smack, his body crumbles to the pavement.

"Edward!" I cry out, terrified by his still body.

With Edward down, the man turns his attention to me. I recognize him immediately. "I told you we'd run into each other again." The stranger from the other night sneers shoving the gun behind his back and pulling out a knife.

Struggling unsuccessfully against the hold of his partner, I realize there is no escape. The man moves closer until I can feel the heat of his stale breath on my face. Slowly, he lifts the knife placing the cold steel against the pulse of my throat.

"Ms. Swan. You and I need to have a little chat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...I am a horrible, horrible person. I really don't intent to torture people, but this is where it needed to end. I was warned to watch out for pitchforks. ;) See you soon.


	7. Chapter 6: Mad World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I'm excited and amazed to announce that this story was voted into the Top Five Favorite Fic Dive stories for November at ADF! Thank you so much for everyone who voted. I am completely blown away by the interest in this story. :)
> 
> RL this week was particularly crazy, so this is a shorter chapter than normal. However, I figured that a short post was better than no post. I couldn't leave you hanging any longer than necessary.
> 
> LostInPA, TDS88, and Beautifulnightmarex are my rocks. I wouldn't be able to keep these chapters going without them.
> 
> Now let's see if our characters can get out of this mess. :)

Chapter 6: Mad World

_"When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen to you: either there will be something solid for you to stand on, or, you will be taught how to fly."_

_Patrick Overton_

* * *

"Ms. Swan. You and I need to have a little chat."

"Who are you?" I ask with more confidence than I feel. Relying on techniques I've developed to face criminals on the stand, I force myself to look him in the eye. I won't be intimidated.

"You're not asking the right questions, counselor. Who I am isn't important."

"I beg to differ," I spit out, the knife still flush against my skin.

I've taken self-defense courses before and for years my dad drilled into my head what I should do in this type of situation. I need to focus. The man holding me still hasn't said anything, and since he pulled me against him first, I have no idea who he is or what he looks like. Although he has my hands in a tight hold, I twist and turn my wrists trying to free them. My feet search for a target I can kick or stomp, but he's keeping his stance frustratingly wide. Dropping my weight, I work on getting enough leverage to elbow him, but his grasp makes any possible countermove difficult.

"Hold still," the man hisses into my ear, tightening his grip even more. His voice is gruff and low but I don't recognize it.

"Screw you!" I yell, hoping to get someone's attention while continuing to struggle.

The man behind me finally releases his hold. However, before I have a chance to make a move, the stranger in the front pushes the knife harder into my neck. The sharp blade digs into my skin; if I shift in any direction, it will surely cut me. Feeling plastic tighten around my wrists, I suddenly understand why he moved back. With my hands securely bound, he regains his hold by wrapping an arm tightly around my chest, his free hand pulling roughly at my hair. The action forces my head to jerk back, the man in front watching with amusement as the knife scraps a burning path along my soft flesh.

"Spirited. I like that." The stranger's lips curl into a slimy grin, his tongue peeking out to lick them. The action twists my stomach.

"So, what is the question then?" I ask trying to buy some time, hoping that someone on the street heard the commotion and is getting help. In my peripheral vision, I still see Edward's prone body on the concrete. _Please be alive._

"Oh, what would be the fun in telling you that? No, I think I should make you guess," he says with a sardonic tone. Flashing a cocky smirk, he pulls the knife back, finally giving me some breathing room.

"Fuck you!" I bite out. "I'm not going to play your sick game."

"Are you sure? I think I could—"

Before he can finish, a body flies from the right, knocking him to the ground, the knife falling to the concrete. The man behind me tightens his grip as Edward and the other guy roll on the ground. Having the element of surprise, Edward is able to get on top of him quickly and land several successful punches. The man swings wildly trying to defend himself, but Edward's jabs are quick and powerful.

Without warning and unable to brace my fall, my body slams into the concrete when the man holding me throws me to the side. Stunned, I watch helplessly as he attacks Edward from behind. Adrenalin pulses through my veins as I scramble to get up. The act is more difficult than I expect with my hands tied behind my back. Once on my feet, I scream for help, watching the chaos in front of me trying desperately to figure out how I can help. Everything moves quickly, my eyes having trouble tracking the details. If I make the wrong move, my interference could make things worse. Seeing the knife on the ground, I quickly kick it away. The least I can do is make sure one of the two men can't use it against Edward.

Edward continues to focus on the man under him almost oblivious to the other man's attacks. With lightning speed, Edward lands another bone-cracking blow, before whipping his body around to land a powerful strike against the person attacking him from behind. His moves are crisp and precise as he grabs him around the waist and knocks him to the ground, the man's head bouncing off the concrete in the process.

I continue to scream for help, trying frantically to get someone's attention, cursing myself once again for leaving my coat inside where my phone is tucked safely within the pocket. I know I should run and grab someone, but I'm terrified to leave Edward alone. Finally, a passerby acknowledges my pleas and yells for someone to call the police.

With Edward now fighting the man who was holding me, the first man is able to recover enough to clamber to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. He turns and sneers, slowly stalking towards me. "You just made a big mistake, little girl."

I widen my stance trying to remember everything I learned about self-defense. I won't go down without a fight. My only shot is to disable him by either taking out his knee or targeting his groin with my feet. Keeping him at a distance is key; he will have the advantage if he gets too close. The other prime targets on his body will be difficult to damage with my hands tied.

The commotion continues to grow, more people stopping to watch the fight though no one steps forward help, the 'bystander effect' apparently in full force. Another yell to call the police, however, is enough to stop his advance. Glancing towards the crowd, he probably realizes that there isn't much time before they arrive.

"Don't worry, Bella. We'll see each other again soon." His voice is like a dagger, his malevolent eyes drinking me in one last time before abruptly bolting towards the street.

"Stop him!" I scream as he forcefully pushes past the crowd.

One man bravely tries to grab his shirt, but he quickly swings and knocks the bystander to the ground. I try to see what direction he is heading in, but it's difficult to determine as the swarm of people swallows him.

"God damn it!" I roar, my body crackling with unused energy. Focusing back on Edward, I'm surprised to see that he and the other man are now standing. Both bloodied, they bob and weave. Each tries unsuccessfully to land blows to the other, though neither are backing off.

"Fuck!" The voice of a savior finally rings through the unresponsive crowd. _Thank God!_

Paul breaks through the spectators and runs towards us, Emmett and Rose following closely behind him. With years of experience breaking up fights, Paul deftly manages to grab the man attacking Edward and pull him away. Rose steps in between, holding her hand against the man's chest to keep him from surging forward again.

"You better fucking stop," Paul growls holding him by his neck. Edward stands close by, his chest heaving as he turns to spit out a mouth full of blood.

"Bella, you okay?" Emmett asks, wrapping his arm around my shaking body as he calls for back up.

"I think so," I whisper still trying to process everything. "Th-there were two…one ran off down the street. I think…I think he went left. It was hard to see," I blurt out. I have a sinking feeling that if we don't find him quickly, chances are slim we will find him at all.

"This isn't over! They know how to get to you, no matter where you are." The man Paul has in a chokehold shouts staring directly at me.

At his veiled threat, Edward rushes forward. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Fuck you!" The man spits in his face.

With astonishing speed and strength, Edward pulls him out of Paul's grasp and throws him against the wall, using his arm to cut off his windpipe. "Don't threaten her. You threaten her and you deal with me. Do you understand?" His deadly voice echoes off the building, the man's face turning red as he sputters for breath.

Emmett rushes over, trying to pull him off. "Edward, that's enough! He's no good to us dead! We can't protect Bella if we don't know who sent him." Edward shakes his head as if coming out of a trance and finally steps back. Emmett quickly grabs the man and holds him while Rose cuffs his hands behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent, you prick," Rose growls.

I barely register the rest of the words as she finishes reading him his rights, the adrenalin in my body slowly giving way to shock. I sense the commotion around me and recognize the sounds of approaching sirens, but it's all static compared to the vision of Edward standing before me covered in blood. A feral look punctuates his face, his wild eyes scanning me as he catches his breath. I am frozen.

"Bella," Edward whispers, his voice gruff. He approaches me slowly. "Are you okay?" His shaky hand cups my face before sliding down to my neck, his fingertips gently caressing the scrapes the knife left behind. "Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head no, not trusting my voice. My mind is suddenly blank. I don't know what to say and I can't stop staring at the trickle of blood running down the side of his face. He seems undisturbed. _Doesn't he want to wipe it off?_

With a shuddering breath, Edward pulls me into a tight embrace, almost wrapping himself around me as one of his hands reaches up to stroke my hair. The sudden warmth helps to ease my trembling, the tension flowing out of my body as it unconsciously surrenders to his comfort.

"Shit, your hands. Let's get you out of these," he states finally noticing my bound hands. Pulling out a fancy looking knife from a holster hidden under his jacket, he turns me around. With a quick swish, my hands are finally free.

"Thank you," I sigh, facing him again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Edward watches closely as I rub each one of my wrists to ease the slight burn that the zip tie cuffs left.

"I'm okay. What about you?" I reach up and carefully brush his hair back to take a closer look at his head wound.

Edward winces, gently pulling my hand away. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it is," he lies.

Before I can argue, Paul runs over. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're alive," I murmur watching as more people crowd the area. Lost in my own world with Edward, I had almost forgotten that we're not alone.

The commotion increases as several officers arrive to contain the scene. Emmett is talking to several of them, gesturing towards the street. Two of the officers rush off in the direction he pointed, probably looking for the one who got away. Rose is still standing with the other man, talking to a couple of other officers who are taking notes.

"Jesus Christ, Edward. You look like hell."

"You should see the other guy," Edward smirks, but his joke falls flat.

I can tell Paul doesn't buy Edward's claim of being fine either, but instead of pushing it, he turns his attention to me. "Do you know that fucker?" he asks motioning to the guy in custody. Emmett walks back over to us. He looks worriedly at Edward, but remains silent.

"No, but his partner approached me several nights ago."

"What?" Edward hisses.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Emmett demands, his words taking on a detective's tone.

"It happened the night of Washed Out's concert. A few feet from the door, he ran into me and knocked me down. At the time it seemed like an accident." Given tonight, the act was obviously intentional.

"Any idea what he wanted?" Emmett questions.

"No. He wanted me to get a drink with him, but he gave me the creeps so I gave him the brush off. He didn't mention anything else that would explain why he's targeting me."

"Do we know who the 'they' could be?" Paul asks referring to the threat thrown in my direction earlier.

Edward's fiery eyes watch me carefully, his nostrils flaring as he waits for my response. I've never seen him this angry. "I don't know. It could be about the case I'm working on or one that I've prosecuted in the past." I need to talk to Sam. I know in my gut that this has to do with Riley, but I need evidence to prove it.

"Looks like we need to get information from his partner then," Edward says lowly.

"If he'll talk. I bet he lawyers up before you even get him into the car," I assert. If he is one of Riley's boys, there is no way he'd be stupid enough to say anything and risk his wrath.

"Oh, I'll get him to talk. Don't worry about that," Edward whispers turning his steely gaze back to the man.

"What are you talking about? You can't question him," I point out incredulously. Edward is delusional if he thinks the cops will let him talk to a person in their custody.

Edward quickly swings his head back to me as if realizing that he vocalized the thought aloud. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops and places his hands on his knees when his body unexpectedly sways.

"Edward!" I reach out to steady his body before he falls. "Here, sit down," I whisper dragging him onto the ground with me.

"We need a medic over here," Paul yells above us.

"I'm fine, Bella. Just give me a minute. We need to figure this out," Edward mumbles, his eyes swimming.

No matter how much he protests, I know he is seriously injured. I'm especially concerned that blood continues to flow from the wound on his head and it looks like it hurts him to take a full breath. Not to mention that his face is starting to swell, his lip is bleeding, and his fists are raw.

"We will, but right now you need to have someone take a look at you."

Edward leans closer, slowly lowering his body until his head is resting in my lap. His chest takes shallow rattling breaths as his hand holds onto my knee like a lifeline. "No, I need to make sure you're safe," he mumbles.

"I'm safe. _You_ , however, need a doctor. You're hurt."

Two paramedics run over and kneel beside us, asking me to move so that they can look at him, much to Edward's dismay. They must have arrived with the other officers. Waving over a gurney, they maneuver Edward onto it despite his continued protests that he is fine.

"We're going to take you in," one of them declares after assessing his wounds.

"I don't need a hospital. Just patch me up and let me go." Edward struggles to get up.

"You can refuse treatment once you get there, sir, but we have to take you in," the second paramedic maintains, pushing Edward back onto the gurney.

"Edward, stop being a stubborn ass and go to the hospital," Emmett chastises. "I'll stay with Bella." Edward sets his frustrated sights on Emmett, but before he can voice another argument, Emmett continues. "Nothing is going to happen with all of us around. Besides, what good are you to anyone if you end up passing out?"

They seemingly enter a silent conversation for several moments before Edward finally relents. "Fine. Let's get this over with," he grumbles to the paramedics.

"Atta boy!" Emmett grins triumphantly.

"Bella, stay with Emmett. I'll come…don't…just… please stay safe," he stammers disjointedly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me." As they wheel him to the ambulance, he pins me with an unidentifiable look.

This whole situation is crazy. Just when we are taking a step towards resolving things, fate unexpectedly spins us in a different direction. My mind tries to sort through all the jagged pieces of this bizarre puzzle. Nothing about tonight makes sense, but apparently, my life now depends upon figuring it out.

"Bella, you need to give an official statement before we can leave," Emmett says breaking through my cryptic thoughts.

"Right."

For now, they are considering this a local matter. However, once we connect it to Riley, it will become part of his federal investigation giving Sam the ability to take over this case too. Newton is going to kill me for not talking to him about all of this sooner. He hates being blindsided.

"Bella!" Turning, I see Alice and Jasper running towards us. Alice quickly pulls me into a tight embrace as soon as I'm within reach. "Thank God you're okay."

"What the hell happened?" Jasper asks Emmett, placing a supportive hand on my back.

"We're still trying to figure that out."

"It has to be Riley," Jasper concludes.

"Agreed, but we need to connect him to her attackers before we can confront him."

" _Attackers?_ As in more than one?" Alice asks squeezing me tighter.

"I'm fine, really." I pat her back reassuringly before pulling back.

"Yes, two to be precise. One of the fuckers got away," Emmett answers before turning his attention to me. "Which means you shouldn't be alone until we find him."

"I understand." I give them a small smile trying to ease their anxiety.

"Let's get your statement taken and get you home," Emmett announces, pointing towards two of the officers.

"I'm going to take Alice back to our house and then head over to the precinct. I've got some favors that I can cash in with the D.A. to make sure they delay his bail hearing as long as possible," Jasper adds.

"That sounds good. The more time we have to find something, the better. We'll need evidence to bargain with if we have any hope of getting information from him."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Alice asks me.

"No, I want you home and away from this mess." I doubt anything else will happen tonight, but I don't want to take any chances of having her caught in the crossfire.

"Okay, but call me later," she whispers pulling me into another hug. "I love you."

"I love you too. Don't worry, Em and Rose have this covered."

"They better," she warns pointing her finger at Emmett before pulling him into a hug and warning him to stay safe too.

Emmett, Rose, and I stay for another forty-five minutes while I make my statement and answer questions. San Francisco P.D. issued an APB for the second assailant as well as sending several Protective Services Details to watch my house and patrol the neighborhood. In a feeble attempt to ease my mind, the lead detective all but promised that they would find the suspect by morning. However, I know the chances of that are slim; this is just the beginning.

Dragging myself into my house, I head straight to my couch and lay down while Rose and Emmett lock up. Placing my arm across my face, I close my eyes recounting everything. I'm a myriad of emotions. I'm exhausted, but surprisingly tonight has only fueled the fire to get justice. I refuse to let the threats and warnings deter me from bringing Riley down and clearing my dad's name.

"How you holding up?" Rose asks quietly.

"I'm okay. Pissed, but okay."

"Well, I'll be damned. There's the girl I know." I can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Has Emmett heard from Edward?"

"Yes, last he heard they were doing a couple of other tests. Luckily, it sounds like besides some cuts, bruises and a mild concussion, he's okay. I guess he has some bruised ribs, which are a bitch, but at least they're not broken."

"That's good," I whisper, relieved, the worry about his condition weighing heavily on me. The look on his battered face difficult to forget.

" _Fuck!"_ Emmett screams into his phone while walking into the living room. Sitting up, Rose and I glance at each other wondering what else could have gone wrong. "What did the paperwork say?...I don't care who they are, they still need to show cause…. Follow up and let me know. …Do we know where they took him at least? …Of course not…Yeah, call me when you have something."

"What happened?" Rose asks cautiously.

"Your attacker was just transferred into federal custody."

"To who?" I ask.

"There's some confusion on the specifics, but the cloak and dagger nature of the paperwork has the stench of the CIA."

"Shit! That changes things," Rose grumbles.

It always amazes me that even though we are all part of the criminal justice system, law enforcement agencies never play nice when their cases cross. The CIA is particularly notorious for keeping vital information to themselves. If they took him, this case just became a lot more complicated with the international implications indicated by their interest and quick response.

"Well, do we at least know who _he_ is?" I ask.

"Yes, Diego Munoz. He has a pretty long rap sheet, mainly for assault."

"Is he associated with Riley?" I lean forward waiting for his response, wringing my hands anxiously. We need this connection.

"No," Emmett says quietly. "But that doesn't mean anything. He's a man for hire, so even if he not's a part of his crew, it doesn't mean that Riley didn't pay him."

"Yeah, but that doesn't help get us what we need now," I spit out frustratingly.

"Hey, it's not over yet. Maybe Sam will recognize Diego from his investigation. He knows how Riley operates and who he employs better than anyone," Rose counters.

"Let's hope so," I grumble.

Emmett's phone blares again, "God damn it," he hisses. "What now?" he barks as soon as he answers. "Where?...How long?" Emmett moves over to my front window to look out. "Stand down. I know him."

"What's going on?"

"Edward is hovering outside. Your protection detail was about to take him out."

"What is he doing?"

"I have no idea. He's just sitting outside, but I doubt he's here to see me."

Standing up, I move to the front door and open it. There on my stoop, sitting with his head between his hands, is Edward.

"What are you doing?" I ask. His head snaps up, followed by a grimace. There is white gauze wrapped around his head. "I know I'm not a doctor, but I'm thinking that quick movements are frowned upon for a healing head wound."

He softly chuckles, "You might be right."

Walking over, I sit next to him. "So, you want to tell me what you're doing out here, besides trying to get yourself arrested for suspicious behavior."

"I was deciding what to do," he mutters. "I needed to see you, but I also realize that you might not want me here."

"Thanks. I appreciate you considering that." His words just highlight everything he's been trying to prove since his return.

"Don't give me too much credit, Bella. I was going to come in one way or another. I just was trying to figure out the best way to do it so you didn't hate me even more than you already do," he whispers defeated.

His posture is a shocking contrast from the fighter who risked his life to keep me safe earlier. I can't discount what he did or ignore the overwhelming fear I felt when he was hurt. I know that this doesn't fix anything. We have so much to work out before I can even comprehend what this means for us, but tonight I don't have the strength to keep up the pretense that I don't care.

Standing up, I walk back and open the door. "Would you like to come in?"

Shocked, Edward gets up slowly, his sore body protesting the movement. "More than anything, Bella. More than anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we return, we will see what the crew plans to do from here and for anyone wondering, we are getting closer to the prologue. ;)


	8. Chapter 7: Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautifulnightmarex, thanks you for always being a sounding board, even when you are crazy busy. TDS88 your beta skills are tops, and LostInPA thank you for letting me bounce ideas off you, I appreciate your help and support more than you know. :)
> 
> I own nothing.

Chapter 7: Burn

_"My thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of you."_

_A quote I found written on a newspaper on a train the other day. (Source: quiettea)_

* * *

_Turning the key, I open the door to the sensation of butterflies fluttering and twirling inside my body. I'm almost afraid that my realtor will call and tell me that there was another glitch, killing my dream of owning this house._

_"Excited?" Edward asks from behind, his breath skimming my neck as he kisses it._

_"How can you tell?" I joke bouncing up and down on my toes._

_Walking inside, I feel a sense of belonging that is hard to explain. The experience intensifies seeing Edward standing in the entryway with a wide smile, his eyes sparkling. The vision sparks my imagination to create an impromptu slideshow of us. Futuristic pictures invade my thoughts, but the image of Edward walking through the door with green-eyed, brown-haired children running into his arms to greet him overwhelms me._

_"Want to tell me what brought that beautiful smile to your face?"_

_"Just thinking about the future."_

_Edward stalks forward, his eyes dark and mischievous. "Really? Anything you want to share?"_

_"Maybe." I smile flirtatiously._

_Grabbing my waist, he pulls me into a tight embrace. Pushing us backwards, I find myself caged between the wall and his body, his lips roaming my neck and face before we meet in an enflamed kiss. His hands glide sensually down my body while mine travel under his shirt, tracing the defined muscles. His body shivers and I smile against his mouth knowing that I caused it._

_"I thought you wanted me to share?" I tease breathlessly._

_"Later," he mumbles. "I'm enjoying the present too much."_

_My heart swells at the silly but romantic comment. I adore this man. Picking me up, I wrap my legs around him as he pushes us harder against the wall, the friction driving me crazy. Reaching up, I drag my fingers through his hair. Edward growls in response, his tongue stroking mine._

_Setting me back on the floor, he reaches down and pulls my shirt over my head. In return, I rip his off. Back against the wall and skin against skin, my hands work to free his belt buckle._

_"I love you," he mumbles, his hands working on my jeans, both of us frantically searching for release._

_"I love you too."_

_Finally free of the confines of our clothes, Edward's eyes search mine while his hand caresses my face. "I hope that future of yours includes me, Bella Swan, because I don't intend to let you go easily."_

_"It does," I breathe out. I can't imagine a future without him in it._

_Leaning forward, his lips devour mine with an adoring intensity. Lifting me up once again, my fiery body feels whole as he takes me in one quick thrust. The electricity pulses through my veins to the rhythm of our frantic pace. I never really understood the concept of making love until Edward. The powerful combination of love, desire, and passion is indescribable as we fall over the edge._

_Sweaty, sated, and warm, our bodies slide down the wall and tangle together until we're lying on the floor. Snuggling into his chest, I savor the sound of his rapid heartbeat. Gently circling my finger in a lazy path across his skin, a low growl rumbles through his chest._

_"Careful, or else we might never get up."_

_"Who says I want to get up?" I ask placing my hand under my chin so that I can look him._

_"In that case," Edward laughs rolling us over until his body hovers above mine._

_"So much for moving in," I giggle enjoying our spontaneous christening of my new house._

* * *

Our laughter follows me back into the present. The taunting memory is hard to swallow as Edward and I walk into my house much like we did on that day long ago, although tonight it's not excitement, but trepidation coursing through my body.

Emmett stands to greets us as soon as we enter the living room. If his wide grin is any indication, he approves of my decision to invite him in. "You look like shit," he says, lightly tapping Edward on the shoulder.

"I can always count on you to keep it honest," Edward smirks.

Edward looks around before focusing back on me. "The place looks great," he mutters uncomfortably.

"Thanks. I've done some work. Painted a bit."

"I like it." Edward's hands flex nervously. I wonder if he feels the loss of our easy conversations as much as I do. "Are you going somewhere?" he questions, pointing towards the mess of boxes on my floor and table in the dining room.

"Um, no, that's my dad's stuff. I've been sorting through it." Though it's only been a few hours since I left the mess behind, it feels like a lifetime ago.

"Oh," he says softly, his eyes assessing me.

"Edward," Rose states grimly by way of a greeting. She eyes me curiously, probably wondering what in the hell I'm doing. I wish I knew myself.

"Rose," Edward acknowledges in return.

For several moments, the four of us stand there stiffly. Each of us glancing uneasily around the room, the silence sharp and fractured. Before everything implodes, I decide to create a distraction for all of our sakes.

"Would you guys like some coffee? I have a feeling it will be a long night."

"Uh, yeah. That sounds good," Emmett answers, eyeballing Edward and Rose who appear to be in an unsettling standoff.

"O-kay, coffee coming right up," I drag out before scurrying to kitchen.

Mindlessly undertaking the task, I try to determine my next steps. There is so much that Edward and I need to talk about, yet having a meaningful conversation will be impossible with two other sets of ears in the room. Especially ones that are on opposite ends of the spectrum of what I should do.

Unfortunately, my brain is still contemplating how to best approach the situation when the hissing of the machine and the smell of brewed coffee indicate the end of my time alone. "Let the fun begin," I grouse, preparing to re-enter the pressure cooker that is currently my living room.

Walking out of the kitchen, I overhear the sound of an argument building. Slowing down, I creep against the wall until I get to the corner where they can't see me. Between Rose's protectiveness, Emmett's concern, and Edward's desire to make things better, I know they will stop talking if I walk into the room. Given the unique opportunity, I feel a sudden urge to hear what they'd say without me present.

"Don't lie, Edward. It doesn't become you." Rose snorts. "You were there for Bella _tonight_ , and I appreciate it, but let's not pretend that we're friends. What happened earlier doesn't change anything."

"Guys, keep it down. This isn't helping," Emmett reprimands.

"Don't you think I know that, Rose! I'm not trying to get out of _anything_. But what goes on between Bella and I is none of your business, so I'd appreciate if you stay out of it. I have enough to fix without your attitude towards me making it worse."

"It's my business because she my friend! _I_ was the one who helped her pick up the pieces after you left, so fuck you! You're such a selfish asshole! Don't you see how fragile she is? Her father's death almost destroyed her. She doesn't need you making things worse," Rose says menacingly.

My body cringes at the blunt remark. I never wanted anyone to see me as "fragile" and yet somehow that is exactly what I've become in the last few months. The comment only stokes the fire building inside, pushing me to find myself again.

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward barks.

"Rose, whether you want to accept it or not, they need to talk. Having things left unresolved doesn't help her either. You don't need to like it, but you should respect your friend enough to let _her_ decide," Emmett tries to rationalize.

The room is suddenly silent and for a moment, I wonder if I should walk in, but then Rose finally responds. "Fine, but I'm warning you, make things worse and nothing will stop me from giving you what you deserve," she all but snarls. "I'm going to check in with the patrols." A few seconds later, the door slams shut.

"What do you think, Em? I think we've made progress. At least she didn't punch me this time," Edward comments sarcastically, leaving me to wonder when that occurred.

"Sorry, man. She'll cool off eventually."

"I highly doubt that. I get that she doesn't trust me, but I have enough to prove already without her interference."

"When are you going to talk Bella?"

Edward pauses, "As soon as I can."

"She's justifiably confused and pissed. It might take a miracle for her to accept any explanation you give."

"Great, thanks for the pep talk."

"I'm just being honest. She's going to need time to absorb it all, so be prepared to give her some space." Emmett's comment gives me pause. He swears he doesn't know all the details of what happened, but it sounds like he knows enough to assume my reaction.

"Space I can do, but what if she never wants to see me again? What in the hell do I do with that?"

"You move on."

"Em, she's it for me. That's never going to change," Edward asserts.

Before they say anything else, the door opens again. "Everything is secure. No sign of anything suspicious." Rose's voice is tight and restrained, a clear sign that she's trying to keep her anger in check.

"Any idea why these guys are after Bella?" Edward asks.

"Not officially. She's working on a high profile case though, so I wouldn't be surprised if that's the connection," Emmett answers.

"What case?" Edward inquires.

"That's confidential. You're not law enforcement, remember," Rose says jumping in.

Deciding there's probably nothing else for me to gain by continuing to hide; I ease backwards so that I can walk in as if nothing happened. Silently gathering information seems like the best strategy until I get a better picture of exactly what is going on.

"Coffee's ready," I announce nonchalantly.

"Great!" Emmett says a little too enthusiastically.

Heading back into the kitchen, I pull out the cups, cream, and sugar, while the others huddle around the island in the center of the room. "What do we do now?" I ask pouring the coffee.

"We wait and hope that they catch this guy tonight," Emmett asserts.

"How realistic is that?"

"It's hard to say," Rose answers honestly.

"And if he's not found, what does that mean for me? How long do I need the protection detail?"

"Until there's no danger," Edward responds swiftly.

"He's right," Rose agrees glancing at Edward. "We can't take any chances until we have more information."

"Great," I grumble.

"Hey, it won't be that bad. They'll stay out of your way," Emmett adds.

"Right," I say begrudgingly feeling fidgety. "Well, I can't stand around here doing nothing. What do we know about Diego?"

"Who's Diego?" Edward questions.

"The second suspect. He was taken into federal custody right after SFPD booked him," I reply.

"Hmmm," Edward mumbles, stirring cream into his coffee.

"Jasper's looking into who's interested in him and why. Taking him doesn't make any sense unless he was already on someone's radar," Rose says answering my initial question.

"Like the CIA," I mutter.

"Maybe switching custody is a good thing. If they have something on him, wouldn't that provide the leverage needed to make him talk? Besides, now he can't be released on bail, which keeps Bella safer," Edward points out.

"Except we won't get any of that information, so how does that help us?" Rose argues.

"I guess you're right," Edward concedes indifferently.

"Of course I'm right. Why don't you just stay out of things you clearly don't understand."

Edward's demeanor brusquely shifts, "You have _no_ idea what I do or do not understand," he cautions, the tone of his voice taking on a deadly air.

"Enlighten me then," she counters undeterred.

"Hey," Emmett interjects stopping the quarrel. "Edward's part of that tight-lipped community and has access to information that we don't, especially since none of us are officially assigned to this case. Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty to throw his knowledge and contacts to the curb."

"What are you talking about," Edward asks looking back and forth between Emmett and I. "You think this is connected to someone I know?"

"Possibly to someone who runs in the same business circles you do," I answer vaguely.

"Then Emmett's right," Edward states hesitantly. "Even with official documentation, no one from my world is going to talk easily. Especially since anyone you approach will have a team of lawyers ready to shut down an interview before it even starts. Who do you suspect?"

The more I think about Emmett's suggestion, the more I think he's right about using Edward's connections to our advantage. At this point, we probably have a better shot with that angle than waiting to hear back from the CIA. Not to mention that being able to see exactly how Edward operates will hopefully give me a window into what he's been up to these last three years.

"Riley Biers," I reveal before I change my mind. "Can you get information on him?"

Edward stops mid-sip, his eyes widening before his face turns into a frown. "Come again."

"Bella," Rose warns.

"It's my decision," I cut her off before she can pose another argument. "We're getting ready to prosecute him. Tonight might be connected to that."

"Wait, the DOJ is going to prosecute Biers?" Edward slams his cup down, the coffee splashing on the counter. "You're kidding me."

His vehement reaction throws me. "No. The FBI has been investigating him for years."

"How the fuck did I not know about this?" he drones shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" Rose probes, posing the question on the tip of my tongue.

"Nothing, never mind," Edward says quietly before fixing his gaze on me, his face changing from dazed to accusatory. "Bella, I asked you the other night what your connection was to Riley. Why didn't you tell me then?"

"Are you seriously asking me that? It was our second conversation in three years. Why in the hell would I share all of my business, especially when I had no clue what _your_ connection was to him."

Edward's eyes burn into mine, his knuckles white as they grasp the counter. His perplexing reaction fuels my curiosity more than my anger. Edward doesn't usually overreact to things, which tells me this is coming from somewhere significant.

"Edward, you need to calm down. She's right," Emmett interjects evenly.

Looking down, Edward takes a deep breath before raising his eyes again. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I'm just frustrated and spewing nonsense."

"Spewing nonsense isn't like you. You sure there isn't something you want to share?" I ask pushing for more information.

"Yes. Just blame it on the head wound," he maintains pointing to the gauze on his head. "Look, I told you that Riley and I don't have the best relationship. If he's connected to what happened then I want to nail his ass. What do you need?"

"We need to find a connection between Diego and Riley."

"What about the other guy. He seemed to be the man in charge," Edward points out. "Do we know his name yet?"

"No," I answer thinking back on the altercation. "You're right though, he probably is the leader. He did most of the talking, and was also the one who approached me before."

"We didn't get a chance to ask Diego anything before he transferred," Emmett adds.

"Okay then, what if we broaden the scope? Can you get information on whether Riley was looking into 'men for hire'?" I question. "If he does know we are getting ready to prosecute, he's not going to be stupid enough to use his own people to attack me."

"I need to dig a bit, but I can probably find out," he affirms.

"You can?" Rose asks suspiciously.

"Yes," Edward answers dismissively. "Any other activities you want me to check into?"

"Anything suspicious, which I realize is probably a needle in a pretty shady haystack, but something is better than nothing," Emmett says.

"Okay, let me make some calls and see what kind of dirt I can find on Mr. Biers." Edward pulls out his phone, but instead of staying in the kitchen, he walks into the laundry room down the hall and shuts the door.

"Is anyone else disturbed by that?" Rose asks pointing down the hallway.

"We need this advantage. Just consider him an informant. We don't 'officially' acknowledge how they get their information either, but we still use it to solve cases," I argue. I'm tired of being one-step behind. Officially or unofficially, we need to turn things up a notch, no matter how bothered I am by the ease of which Edward thinks he can get information.

"Yeah, sure," Rose relents.

"Okay people!" Emmett pronounces smacking his hands together in a booming clap. "Let's get down to business."

Splitting up, each of us spends the next several hours looking for evidence to either prove a connection between Biers and Diego or find any known associates of Diego that might lead to the identity of his partner. Edward focuses primarily on his various contacts while Rose and Emmett pull some strings at their respective agencies to conduct a massive information search on various databases.

Rubbing my blurry eyes, I struggle to read the words on the page in front of me. I've been going through Riley's files again searching for any mention of Diego Munoz. After fighting off another face-splitting yawn, I decide that I've had enough. Dragging myself to the living room, I see that Emmett, and Rose are not much better off.

"Okay, troops, I'm calling it a night. Time for you to go home and get some sleep."

Emmett stands to stretch. "I agree it's time to call it a night, but you're crazy if you think Rose and I are leaving with that madman still on the loose."

"What he said. So, where do you want us to crash?" Rose asks, placing her file on down on the arm of her chair.

"You guys, that's really not necessary."

"It is," Edward's voice rings out as he returns from making yet another phone call. "And since we should reconvene in the morning anyway, it makes sense for everyone to just stay here."

"Everyone as in you?" I ask incredulously, stunned by his bold declaration.

"I'd feel a lot better if I stayed," he whispers.

Staring at his injured head and bruised face, my heart wins the battle over my mind on whether or not this is a good idea. Given his injuries and the late hour, it would probably be safer for him to stay. "Fine. Rose and Emmett can take the spare room upstairs. Edward, you can take the couch."

"Oh goodie a slumber party! Who's going to do my nails?" Emmett jokes waving his massive hands in the air.

"Careful, Em, I always went more for pranks at my parties. Keep that up, and your hand will be getting the warm water treatment," I warn.

"Lucky for me MythBusters busted that, so do what you will." He winks before throwing a small pillow at my head.

I think the late hour has officially gone to his head. "Will you guys try to tame him while I set up the bed?" I laugh throwing the pillow right back before running up the stairs to avoid retaliation.

After getting it ready, I go back down with some blankets and pillows for Edward. Finding him alone in the living room, I walk over slowly, realizing that this is the first time we've been unaccompanied since he came in. "Here you go," I say handing them over, only to shiver when our hands brush during the pass off.

"Thank you," he whispers setting them on the couch. Moving closer, his eyes search mine. "Bella, we really—" The sound of Edward's phone stops him from finishing the sentence. "I better take this," he mutters rushing back towards the laundry room, leaving me a quivering mess of confusing emotions once again.

Shaking it off, I head into the kitchen where Rose and Emmett are putting the coffee cups in the dishwasher. "Your room is ready. Is there anything else you need?"

"You don't by chance have an extra toothbrush I can use do you?" Rose asks.

"Umm, yeah. I think I have a couple in the bathroom downstairs. Let me go check."

Walking towards the bathroom, I hear Edward's angry voice pulsate down the hall. For the second time tonight, I find myself slowing down to play spy and listen in on a conversation not meant for me. I should feel guilty, but my need to know currently outweighs what is decent and honorable.

"I don't give a fuck about protocol! …Why wasn't I told about this?... Remind him that I agreed to do this and he would have _nothing_ without me. He doesn't get to sensor information, you got it?... Well, tonight changes everything. I don't care what strings you need to pull, I want…"

"Bella," Emmett's voice suddenly bellows, scaring the shit out of me. Rushing back down the hall, I try to act nonchalant, hoping that my face does not give away my embarrassment of almost getting caught.

"What's up?" I ask, annoyed that my voice sounds overly perky even to my own ears. _So much for playing it cool._

"Rose and I are going to do one final check in with the patrols before you set the alarm."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about all the trouble."

"It's no trouble, Bella. Besides your guest bed is comfortable, and you make a kick ass breakfast, so it really works to my benefit." He smiles before giving my shoulder a squeeze.

Waiting until he's out of sight, I move quickly hoping to hear more of Edward's conversation. However, as soon as I swing around, I find Edward already standing right behind me.

"Anything going on?" he asks evenly. If he knows that I was listening in, he's either playing it off or biding his time to confront me.

"Umm, no," I respond trying to calm my pounding heart. "They're just going to do one final check-in."

"Oh, okay."

"Any news?" I ask, motioning to the phone in his hand. "You've been in and out of that room a lot tonight."

"Nothing solid, but I have several good leads. I should have more information by tomorrow."

"Great," I babble trying to gage his reaction, hoping it will give me an indication of whether or not he's onto me. "So, you found people willing to give you information?"

"I had to pull in some favors, but yeah, I found people willing to help." His composed demeanor makes me almost certain that he's none the wiser to my devious acts.

"Anything you can share?" I push, hoping he will indirectly shed some light on the conversation I overheard.

"No, I just got the ball rolling." We stand there quietly for a moment before he changes the subject. "Thank you for letting me stay," he says earnestly.

"You might not say that after sleeping on the couch. I don't know how comfortable it will be."

"I've slept in worse places. It will be fine." He blinds me with a charming smile.

The energy between us makes my skin tingle, like static in the air before a storm. "I think I'm going to turn in. Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm good." Reaching out he grabs my hand, gently rubbing my knuckles. "Sleep well, Bella."

"Good night," I whisper, deciding to leave before I get lost in the soothing sensation of his caress.

Hastily pulling my hand out of his, I rush to the bathroom to grab the toothbrushes and then run upstairs. After placing them on the spare bed, I move into my bedroom shutting the door tightly behind me. Going through my nightly routine, I try not to focus on the fact that Edward is sleeping in my house tonight.

Turning on my reading light, I pull out a familiar and comforting book, hoping that the soothing words will help me fall asleep. Although I'm physically exhausted, my mind is too restless to sleep, a horrible combination for an insomniac.

"Damn it! I can't keep letting him affect me," I reprimand myself, settling into the covers and opening my book. "Damn him."

* * *

Chased awake by unseen demons, I sit up breathless and overheated. The nightmare fades before I can grasp it, but even without the details, I'm left feeling terrified. Sweeping my eyes across the room to check for monsters, I realize that the light is still on and my book is haphazardly laying on the bed. I must have fallen asleep while reading it.

Having no desire to return to dreamland, I tiptoe downstairs to get a drink. Quietly pulling a glass out of the cabinet, I pour some juice, gulping it down quickly to ease my scratchy throat. The combination of the cold liquid and sweat cooling on my skin elicits a penetrating shudder that runs down the length of my body. Wrapping my arms around my body, I stare out of the window hoping to clear my mind so that I can get some rest before the sun rises.

"Can't sleep?"

"Jesus!" Shaken by the unexpected noise, the glass falls from my hand and shatters on the floor.

"Shit! Don't move, you'll cut your feet," Edward says rushing forward. Swiftly, I'm lifted off the floor surrounded by the familiar heat of Edward's body and the smell of spice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Setting me down several feet away, I watch transfixed while he moves around the kitchen as if he belongs there. Easily finding the broom, dustpan, and paper towels, he quickly takes care of the mess, making sure to get each piece of glass. Remaining focused on the task, he avoids eye contact and conversation.

"Yeah," I blurt out.

Edward's eyes shoot up, confusion written on his face. "What?"

"Umm, you asked if I couldn't sleep. I didn't answer…because you know…the glass broke. So, yeah…I couldn't sleep," I slur quietly realizing how idiotic that sounded.

Edward stares for a moment, a small grin gracing his face before he lowers his head mumbling, "aren't….sup….go….ing."

The words are so quiet and quick that I only manage to pick up bits and pieces. "What?"

"Aren't lawyers supposed to be good with the whole talking thing?" he asks erupting into uncontrollable laughter.

I gawk at him, shocked by the familiar words.

"I'm sorry," Edward chokes out. "I couldn't help myself. You looked just as cute and flustered as you did that day on the softball field."

Suddenly, the ridiculous nature of the situation mingled with the look on Edward's face spurs me into a fit of giggles as well. Together, we laugh hysterically, the stress of the day releasing through unexplainable humor. Then just as suddenly, the laughter ends. The returning tension crashing against me like waves pounding a shore.

Taking a stuttering breath, Edward looks into my eyes, his face once again serious. "The day I met you was the best day of my life. You don't know how often I wish I could go back there."

"I hear the words, Edward, but they're hard to believe, especially since you were the one who chose to leave."

"Can we talk?" he asks motioning towards the living room.

"Sure," I whisper shakenly. I'm tired of hiding. If I ever expect to get my life back, I need to stop running and finally face Edward.

The room is dark except for the warm glow of the fire; the crackling logs the only sound. For my own self-preservation, I choose to sit on the reading chair in the corner, while Edward sits on the couch facing the fireplace. Curling my legs underneath me, I anxiously pick on my sleeve waiting for him to start. I feel like Alice about to go down the rabbit's hole. I'm too curious not to jump, but I have no idea what is waiting for me on the other end.

"I never told you much about my mother, did I?"

"No-o," I stammer, taken aback by where he decided to start.

"I know that memories around the ages of four and five are supposed to be fuzzy, but a lot of mine are pretty vivid. Maybe it's because that was the best part of my childhood." He pauses for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he continues. "Anyway, what I remember most is how vibrant and happy she was with my father. She smiled and laughed all the time. They seemed perfect together."

"That doesn't sound like the person you told me about when we met," I comment, surprised at the stark difference.

"No it doesn't. I guess it hurt too much to talk about who she was since I hated the woman she'd become."

"Because she was never there for you," I deduce.

"It's hard to describe what her transformation was like. One day I was a part of a loving family and then the next I was living in an emotional void. My father disappeared, and everything changed. My mother stopped paying attention to me and started going to parties instead." Edward clenches his jaw, straining to get the words out. "Her smile vanished right along with her attentiveness. I literally watched her fade into oblivion and I hated her for it."

"Are you still in contact with her?"

"I wouldn't say contact. I've been trying to get her sober, which has become a never-ending cycle of placing her in treatment, watching her get kicked out, and then finding a new facility so we can start all over again. I know she won't change until she's ready, but I keep hoping that one day something will click."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Ironically, I think it was easier when I just hated her. I discovered some things over the last few years that made me gain a new appreciation for what happened. It's hard to accept that it might be too late for her."

"She doesn't think that she has a problem?"

"No. I've tried to visit her a couple of times, but she either refuses to see me or…" He stops, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Or she just screams at me for abandoning her like my father. She says that she can't stand me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper holding back the impulse to pull him into my arms.

Shaking his head as if trying to free himself of the sorrow, he looks up. "The worst part is wondering who the real Esme is. I'd like to think it's the women I remember, but what if that person was the farce? I've gathered pieces of information about what happened after we moved, but nothing that sheds enough light to know the truth and it's driving me crazy." He stops again, seemingly struggling to find his words.

His vulnerability opens a chasm inside my heart. Maybe we have more in common than I realize. "Seattle PD is investigating my dad. They think he was a dirty cop," I blurt out hastily. I've only been in the dark for a few days; I can't imagine not knowing the truth for years.

Stunned Edward sits up a little straighter on the couch. "What?"

"I understand what you mean about not knowing the truth. They think someone murdered him because he was involved in illegal activities. I want to prove them wrong, but I've also discovered that he was hiding things from me." I look down, watching my hands twist and untwist nervously.

"When did you find out?" Edward whispers, leaning forward.

"A few days ago. It's become so convoluted, I can't see straight. My goal is to prove him innocent, but what if I just end up proving them right?" I ask voicing the fear that's been haunting me.

"It is a difficult allegation to believe. What's their evidence?"

I almost tell him about the drawing, but quickly decide that's one detail I'm not ready to share until I have more information. "His finances were a mess. I had no clue until his death how bad things were and then…" I trail off, having trouble saying the words aloud.

"And then," Edward prompts.

"He supposedly had a secret bank account with a lot of money. He opened it shortly after his finances fell apart. I guess they think he was on the take, but it has to be a mistake. He wouldn't do that."

"It does seem out of character. Your dad was never a slave to money."

"See, it just doesn't make sense. He wouldn't go that route, no matter what."

"I agree it would have taken a lot to make him do something illegal," Edward says, his face thoughtful.

"You think there's a possibility?"

"Bella, if I've learned anything over these last few years it's that you never know what people are willing to do, especially for the ones they love. It's hard to see your dad making that choice, but as you said, he was hiding things. The Charlie I knew would do anything to protect you."

"What possible reason would he have to commit a crime?" I exclaim trying to keep the creeping doubt out of my consciousness.

"It's hard to say. One tiny thing can flip someone's entire world," he says gruffly with a sour expression.

"Sounds like you know that from experience," I utter twisting my hands harder.

Edward laughs ruefully, "You could say that. I told you I found some things out." I nod my head waiting for him to continue. "I'm, uh, pretty sure that my grandfather blackmailed my father to leave."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I also think that he was the one supplying drugs to my mom, but I can't prove it."

"Jesus."

"I felt completely justified in my anger towards my parents, but what if I was wrong? If I'd stayed, maybe she wouldn't be as bad off as she is now." Edward sighs heavily, dropping his head. "It changed everything when I found out."

Trembling at his words, I shift to pull my knees up, hugging them tightly. "Is that why you left?"

Edward's stunned eyes penetrate mine. I guess he didn't expect me to ask the million-dollar question so abruptly. "No. It ended up being a part of the result, but it wasn't the reason."

"Then I'm confused. If finding out about your mom wasn't the reason what was?"

"Fuck," he whispers. "I'm not doing this very well. I've thought about what to say to you for so long and now that we're here, I…"

"You're afraid." I finish, remembering the words he shared with Emmett earlier. "I understand, but I'm here and I'm listening."

Edward gives me a tight smile before taking a deep breath and continuing. "A couple of weeks before I left, I found out some things about my grandfather. I always knew that he was ruthless, but I never imagined that he was evil." Looking past me with a glassy stare, his voice takes on a distant tone. "But most importantly, I learned that he was dying."

"Is that when you found out about your mother and father?" I ask trying to keep him in the moment with me.

"No, I didn't find out about what he did to them until after I left. But, that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. You couldn't imagine what he was capable of, Bella," he murmurs, his voice cracking.

Unbeknownst to Edward, I actually have no problem imaging what his grandfather might have done considering who his suspected associates were. "What did you find out?" I ask curiously.

"That he was involved with the world's largest crime syndicates."

"Involved how?"

"From what I understand, he was knee deep in a bunch of their shit."

"Specifically, what kind of 'shit'?" The lawyer in me immediately follows up.

"You name it, he did it. It made me sick. Hell, it still makes me sick to know how many lives he impacted, not to mention knowing that he involved my mom."

"She was committing crimes?" I ask astonished.

"No, but he introduced her to that world. She was hobnobbing with criminal masterminds. My mother may not have done anything with her own hands, but I know she overheard a lot of their plans."

"You're angry she didn't do anything," I state knowingly, watching his spine straighten and fists clench.

"Yes!" he shouts, before dropping his shoulders and releasing a long breath. "God that's sounds horrible after everything else I told you. I know she probably felt trapped, especially if he was giving her drugs, but a part of me can't help but wonder if she wanted to stay."

"That's what you meant by not knowing the truth."

"I go back and forth constantly," he mutters. "Most of the time, I feel like I failed her, but then I think about how things would be different if she had just asked for help. Then I'm pissed again."

"What would have been different?"

"It wouldn't have been left to me to fix things, and I would still be with you," he says hauntingly, his face full of broken sadness.

"I'm trying to understand, but I'm not following how all of this is connected to you leaving. Why didn't you just tell me? I could have helped you to sort it out."

Edward nods his head. "I know and I regret that decision every day, but at the time it seemed like the best option."

"Why?"

"When I learned about his criminal associations, I also found out that he was keeping track of us, especially of you."

"Me? For what purpose?" I ask stunned.

"Because you were a threat to his plans with me," Edward spits out as if the words disgust him.

"That doesn't make any sense," I contend. Edward had already cut most of his ties to his grandfather's business when we met, so it seems ridiculous that his grandfather faulted me for the separation. Edward would have ended it completely with or without my help.

"You were the most important part in a life he never wanted me to have. He knew that both you and your father were involved in the criminal justice field, so he assumed you were pushing me into it."

"He thought that _I_ got you involved with the SFPD? But you started that process before we met," I point out trying to figure out the rationale behind the bizarre assumption.

"I know," Edward sighs. "The truth is he was completely clueless about my plans. Yet, he became convinced that our relationship was the problem."

"Wow." I really didn't know what else to say.

"Wow is right. His disease-riddled mind decided that getting rid of you was the key to turning me. Even towards the end, he actually believed he could still mold me into his protégé."

"Really," I respond obscurely. Although Edward is making the plan sound ludicrous, the fact that he is running the company makes me wonder whether his grandfather was correct.

"It didn't help that he's had success with that plan before." Edward's gaze bores into mine, waiting for me to connect the dots.

"Your dad."

"Yup. Once he left, my grandfather was able to get my mom and me right where he wanted us –" Edward stops, the color abruptly draining from his face. "Fuck, I did the same thing didn't I?" He breathes out a humorless laugh. "Shit, for all the years I spent hating him for running away, I turned out to be just like the son of a bitch."

"Edward, it was a different situation. You didn't run out on a child. It was just me."

"Bella," he exhales. "There was never anything 'just' about you. You were and are everything. Don't make what I did less than what it was."

"Fine. If I really was everything, why did you leave?"

"When I first found out, it never even crossed my mind. I didn't think anything would come of his attempts to break us up, especially given how sick he was, but about a week later other things started happening."

"Like?"

"Things that proved his reach went farther than I ever imagined. I realized that I couldn't escape him, and the only way I could keep you safe was to deal with it."

"So why not tell me instead of just taking off?"

"And risk you getting involved? It paralyzed me to think about you being caught up in that world. You are so strong and independent, but so was my mom. The image of you becoming her haunted my every thought. I had to make sure that never happened. I had to stop him."

The desperation pouring out of him almost stops me from responding to his flawed rationale, yet, I couldn't let him think that I agreed with it either. "I could have handled it, Edward. You should have trusted me."

"It wasn't about a lack of trust, Bella. I just couldn't subject you to that life."

"But leaving me in the lurch was better?"

"At the time I believed I had no other options."

"You could have told me a story… anything besides disappearing without a trace!"

"I had no choice!" Edward yells, abruptly standing up and pacing. "I couldn't face you and go through with it and I knew you would see through any lie I tried to tell."

"We live in an era of constant communication, Edward. There are phones, e-mail, Facebook, Instagram. Hell, you could have tweeted it. Any of those would have been better than nothing!" I shout getting on my feet and walking over to him. " _Nothing_ drives you into madness and leaves you obsessing over Every. Single. Possibility. The constant thoughts of what you could have done to drive the person you loved away. I mean, why would the perfect guy leave with no word unless it was your fault?" My chest heaves as I spew out the words I've wanted to say for years. I thought I would feel better once I threw them in his face, but now I just feel empty.

"I'm truly a monster," Edward mutters running his hands across the back of his neck. "I didn't think about all the consequences. I thought I was making the right choice for _you_."

"This is the right choice for me?" I ask waving my hand back and forth between us. "How did you imagine this would go when you returned? Is this what you expected?"

"Honestly, I didn't expect to come back. I guess that I hoped you'd hate me enough to move on quickly."

"Oh my God!" I huff angrily, my mind still struggling to comprehend the supposed "logic" of his scheme. "Well congratulations, your plan worked perfectly." I sneer walking back to the chair. My body feels weak, the release of emotions and lack of sleep finally taking its toll.

"Believe me, it was a lesson in 'be careful of what you wish for'," Edward grumbles, flopping back on the couch.

"Because you came back. I mean you're here right, so something with your 'plan' obviously failed."

"You could say that," he grumbles. "More importantly though, I realized that the cost of losing you wasn't worth it. From that point on, my focus became about getting out and getting back to you."

"Why not reach out to me then?" I ask quietly, rubbing my eyes trying to ease the burn of exhaustion. I feel like we are going in circles.

"It wasn't that easy. Besides, what would I say? How could I explain anything over the phone or in an e-mail? Then as the days turned to months and years, it just seemed impossible."

"And facing me out of the blue was the better alternative?"

"At least I could show you my intentions," he offers weakly. "You have every right not to trust me, but I swear on my life that I'm here no matter how long it takes. I will show you every minute of every day how sorry I'm if you'd let me."

"It's not that easy, Edward," I spit out using his own words against him. "Especially when there is so much more that I need to know."

"Just ask."

"Let's go back to this information you received. How did you get it? And exactly what things started happening that made you put this craptasitc plan into action?" I inquire.

Edward stares at me, seemingly plotting his next words. "People who had a vested interest in stopping my grandfather gave me the information and made sure I knew how serious the threats were."

"Against me," I clarify.

"Yes."

"These 'people', who are they?"

Edward hesitates again, taking a deep breath. "There are some things that are better if you don't know."

"No, you don't get to play that card," I hiss leaning forward again, pinning him with my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but I'm not going to risk your safety," he says remorsefully. "You don't know how much it kills me to say that, especially now."

"Sure," I mutter dismissively, leaning back against the chair. I'm too tired and frustrated to argue, but there's no way that I'm letting this go. If Edward doesn't want to tell me, I will figure out a way to find out myself. "What about your new career? Can you talk about that?" I ask sarcastically. "Because I still don't understand how learning about all of this translates into you taking over Global."

"Taking over was my chance to fix things."

_"Then all of sudden, his grandson, your friend I assume, stepped in. How well do you know Cullen?"_ Sam's voice drifts into my head. It didn't sounds like things had changed from his perspective.

"Fix things how?" I ask suspiciously.

Edward stares for a moment; I can see his brain calculating. "Change his business practices by focusing on the legitimate aspect of things. Try to make up for some of his wrongdoings."

"You mean like change its associations."

"Yes."

"Associations like Riley Biers," I say throwing out the hook purposely.

"I told you, Bella. I don't have any business associations with Biers."

"And yet you can find out information regarding his illegal activities," I point out resting my head against the back of the chair.

"Only because y _ou_ asked me to."

"It doesn't change the fact that you didn't blink an eye. How exactly do you have so much access?"

"There are lots of criminal organizations who also run legitimate businesses. Sometimes the contact is unavoidable and sometimes it serves a greater purpose."

"That sounds ominous," I sigh closing my eyes for a second.

"Believe me, I know exactly what I'm doing. I don't blindly follow anyone."

"I don't know what to believe," I whisper, sinking further into the chair, my mind feeling groggy.

"Bella, you know me better than anyone. That's never changed."

"How can you say that? The man I thought I knew would never leave to run a company like Global. Most of the time, I don't even recognize you."

"What do you mean?"

"You've changed, Edward. I see it in your eyes, and then tonight…" I hesitate gathering my thoughts.

"What about tonight?"

"You put yourself at risk to protect me and I appreciate, but I didn't know that man. He scared me," I admit quietly, tucking my legs back under me.

"I would do anything to protect you, Bella. I would have done the same three years ago."

"It was the execution of _how_ you did it. You were almost feral, and yet still so precise in your movements. It was as if you knew exactly what to do."

"I don't know what you want me to say," he says wearily. "I can't apologize for my actions because it stopped them from hurting you, but I never want you to be scared of me. I would never hurt you, Bella."

I expel a mournful laugh. "Edward, you _did_ hurt me."

"Fuck," he breathes shamefully. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."

The room falls into a deafening silence, our words lingering in the air as his piercing eyes trap mine. Shattered, I break first. "I honestly don't know where we go from here," I whisper closing my eyes to escape.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't give up on me…on us," he pleads.

"How can I answer that when there is still so much that you're unwilling to say? When all this other crap is happening."

"I swear I'm going to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

"You have a lot to prove," I utter, my sleep-deprived body continuing to work against me, the blinks from my heavy eyelids lasting longer and longer.

"I know," he declares.

The room falls quiet once again. Closing my eyes, I listen to the crackling fire, punctuated by the sounds of Edward shifting on the couch. I can feel his eyes on me, but I'm too tired to acknowledge them.

"You need to tell me everything," I mumble, slowly losing the battle against sleep.

"I will," Edward says, but his voice sounds far away.

Somewhere in the void between consciousness and sleep, I feel my body lift. The disembodied words "you'll know everything soon enough" floating through my cloudy brain as I finally succumb to nothingness.

* * *

The sound of my ring tone drags me back into consciousness. Clearing the mental cobwebs, I'm startled to find Edward snuggled against me, his tight embrace guarding me even in his sleep. I must have fallen asleep during our talk, but how that explains our sleeping arrangement, I have no idea.

My phone blares again bring me out of my thoughts. Carefully, I untangle myself from his grasp and run to the table to grab it. "Hello?" I answer breathlessly.

"Bella, thank God! Are you okay?"

"Sam? Umm, yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"I heard what happened. Are you sure you're okay?"

"How did you find out?" I question before answering, curious about how the news got to him so fast.

"Since Rose was there, word got around the bureau and back to me. Why didn't you call?"

"I was going to call today. It was pretty late by the time everything was all said and done." I lower my voice when Edward turns over, grumbling against the couch.

"You haven't answered my question. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It was touch and go for a bit but….um, Edward was there and was able to stop them from doing anything," I say hesitantly remembering our last conversation about Edward.

"Cullen? Christ, this is worse than I thought."

"What are you talking about," I hiss, watching as Edward rolls over again.

"Hmm, Bella…I love you," he mumbles snuggling further into the pillow, a gentle smile crossing his lips. The sight pulls on my heart more that I care to admit.

"I found out some things in Seattle. I was right about Cullen. Look, I'm at the airport now and can be at your house in a few hours. Don't go anywhere until I get there okay."

"What did you find?" My stomach drops, the remnants of any good feelings swiftly turning to ice.

"I don't want to get into it over the phone. I know you have a history with him, but you can't trust a thing that guy says. Just...just stay away from him, okay."

"Uh huh. See you when you get here," I numbly whisper watching Edward and not really processing that I just agreed to something that's obviously impossible given that he's here.

Although there is clearly more to Edward's story, it's hard to believe that the parts he shared last night were a lie. That kind of emotion would be difficult to fake. _Difficult but not impossible_ , my brain chides.

Sitting heavily on a chair, I ponder what to do next. It's time to get off this dizzying merry-go-round. Between Riley, Sam, Edward, and my dad I have no idea what to believe or who to trust. One thing is clear, however, I need to figure it out soon. It's time to take charge of my own destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Bella's ready to kick some ass.


	9. Chapter 8: In Too Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter would not have made it to you without LostInPA, who did the quickest turn around imaginable for this chapter. She rocks! I also couldn't do this without TDS88, she helps keep my commas on track! :)
> 
> As always, I own nothing but my own crazy plot twists.

Chapter 8: In Too Deep

_"Bring me your suffering. The raffle roar of broken bones. Bring me the riot in your heart. Angry, wild and raw. Bring it all. I am not afraid of the dark."_

_Mia Hollow_

* * *

_"Dad?" I yell walking in the front door._

_The house is unusually quiet, the TV dark instead of blaring a game. Setting my overnight bag on the bench in the entryway, I wander to the back of the house and out the sliding glass door. There on the porch, I find my dad smoking a cigar and leaning back in a chair with his eyes closed._

_"Bad day?"_

_His body jerks forward, but then relaxes when he sees me, a huge smile gracing his lips. "Jesus Christ, Bells. Give a guy a little warning next time. You trying to give your old man a heart attack?" He stands up and pulls me into a loving hug before settling back into his spot._

_"Always be prepared. Isn't that what you taught me?" I joke sitting next to him. "You haven't smoked for a long time. Everything okay?"_

_"Yeah," he breathes out, brushing off my concern. "Just a crazy day. How about you? What's with the unexpected visit?"_

_"Can't a daughter visit her father?" I ask sweetly trying to divert the conversation._

_"Of course, except that I know you. What's up?"_

_"It was a long week, so I decided to get away."_

_My dad stares at me, searching for something; I don't really know what. Leaning forward, he finally speaks. "That's it! This has gone on long enough."_

_"What?"_

_"You've lost your spark, kid. I see it in your eyes, and I've just about had it with your moping around."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. It time's to let Edward go."_

_I open my mouth to argue, but stop knowing that it would be pointless. He knows me too well. "I'm trying."_

_"You know when I knew you were going to succeed in this world?" he asks, throwing me off with the change of topic._

_"When?"_

_"We were at a playground when you were about four years old. You were playing in the sandbox when this older boy took a toy away from the little girl next to you. You watched them for a minute before your little face got this look of determination. It was so cute," my dad laughs trying to mimic the face he remembers. "Anyway, out of the blue you stood up and demanded that he give the toy back."_

_"I don't remember that," I whisper, sorting through vague memories._

_"This boy was several inches taller than you, but it didn't matter. You stood there with your hands on your hips, staring him down even though you were looking up. He refused to give you the toy, so you reached out and just took it from him. When you turned around to give it back to the little girl, the boy yanked your hair pretty good. Before I could get over there, you swung around and pushed him. You didn't back down an inch, getting right into his face and telling him that he better not do that again."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really. Your mother was mortified, but I couldn't have been more proud. I knew right then and there that my little girl wasn't going to let life defeat her. It's also why I wasn't surprised when you decided to become a prosecutor. Even then you cared about fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves."_

_"Destiny," I chuckle._

_"Uh huh," my dad hums sipping from his beer._

_"Not that I mind the trip down memory lane, but what does that have to do with anything?"_

_"You need to get back in the game. You need to find that spark again."_

_"Dad," I huff annoyed. "You make it sound like I'm cowering in a corner somewhere. I'm living my life, and most importantly, still kicking ass in court. I'm not seeing a problem here."_

_"When's the last time you went on a date?"_

_"I don't think that's any of your business."_

_"Try again, kiddo. Everything you do is my business. Come on, we're not 'beat around the bush' kinds of people. Be straight with me."_

_He's right; we never hide anything from each other. "Okay, fine. It's been a while."_

_"You loved Edward."_

_"Yes," I whisper._

_"You know better than anyone that I understand loss. Your mother was everything to me, and when she died I had a choice to make, either let it beat me or move forward."_

_"And you moved forward," I sigh. "But our situations are a bit different. Mom died, she didn't choose to leave."_

_"It doesn't make the loss any less painful."_

_"That's not what I mean."_

_"People come into our lives for a reason, both good and bad. It is not the easy parts of life that build character, honey, it's the difficult ones."_

_"Aren't you the Hallmark greeting card," I mutter sarcastically._

_My dad raises his eyebrow, clearly not amused. "And here comes the deflection."_

_"I'm just having a hard time finding the reason for this one, okay."_

_"Edward helped you to see magic. What he did was wrong, but don't lose that joy because it didn't work out. This is your life. Take it back with no apologies."_

_"That's easier said than done." I can almost taste the bitterness of the words in my mouth._

_"Life is always beautiful, especially in its ugliness. There is still magic in the world, Bells. Like the saying goes, when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." He throws his arm around my shoulder to pull me closer and kiss my temple. "It's time to become a butterfly."_

* * *

I've allowed myself to drift through the events of my life for far too long. Permitting outside circumstances to rule my choices and determine my path. If I were honest, I'd have to admit that it started after Edward left, but it's become a hundred times worse since my dad was killed.

"No more," I whisper. This is _my_ life and _my_ father.

I look over to the couch where Edward is still sleeping peacefully, murmuring my name again. I contemplate whether I should get him out now or just prepare for the fallout that will occur when Sam arrives. Given their first interaction and Sam's warning, I doubt that either will be pleased to be in the same room together.

Sam is obviously convinced that Edward is untrustworthy and considering his recent support, I can't blindly discount his concern. On the other hand, Edward seemed sincere last night, his emotions so raw. He's done nothing but pledge his devotion since his return, however, I also can't ignore that he's hiding things.

Before I can come to any resolution, my cellphone blares again. Glancing down at the name on the screen, I roll my eyes and prepare for an unpleasant conversation. "Hello, Mike."

"You know what I love? Getting phone calls early in the morning about one of my employees," Newton hisses into my ear. "Just what in the hell were thinking? I mean Jesus Christ, Swan!"

"Why yes, Mike, I'm fine. Thanks so much for asking," I sarcastically sneer in return.

"Cut the crap, I'm not completely heartless. I checked to make sure you were okay before I called."

"Aww, how sweet of you." I have no doubt that his "concern" has more to do with whether an injury would affect his life versus my wellbeing.

" _And_ since you are fine, my priority is the Biers case. The incredibly high-profile case that you just shot all to hell."

"I didn't shoot anything. The case is just fine."

"Not from where I'm sitting. Is it or isn't true that your father's murder is connected to Riley Biers?"

"I don't know."

"What?" he yells incredulously.

"I said I don't know! Nothing is conclusive, but yes there might be a connection."

Out of my peripheral vision, I notice that Edward is now sitting on the couch rubbing his eyes. Standing up, he walks over to me, concern marring his face.

"You should have come to me immediately! Do you know what this means? Anything you've touched is tainted. Years of work down the drain while a criminal psychopath walks away scot-free."

"Don't be so fucking dramatic, Mike. I didn't find out about the _possible_ connection until just a couple of days ago. The only thing I've done since then is start the paperwork on some warrants for his property, which aren't even filed yet."

"Do _you_ believe that there's a connection?"

"Yes," I whisper hesitantly.

"Then you were obligated to let me know as soon as you suspected. No matter when you found out, his lawyers will argue that you knew all along, followed quickly by a motion to throw the case out with prejudice."

"I doubt any judge will go for that."

"Maybe, maybe not, but regardless, writing the briefs and arguing our side will take time away from preparing for the _actual_ trial."

"You're right," I admit begrudgingly. Edward's eyes continue to implore mine. He never liked how Mike treated me. "In all fairness though, it came out of nowhere, and it took me a while to process what it all meant. Hell, I'm still processing it."

"That doesn't matter. As an officer of the court, you're held to a higher standard."

"I understand." I clench my fists to stop myself from saying something I'll regret.

"I want you to turn over all of your files and any and all work product related to the case to Garrett by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir," I mumble.

"Also considering what happened last night, I think it's best if you take a leave of absence."

"You're suspending me?" I yell. Edward moves closer, putting a supportive hand on my back.

"No, you're not suspended. However, considering you were just assaulted and that you're still dealing with the loss of your father, I think now is a good time to take a step back and find some perspective."

"But—"

"I want to take this son of a bitch down, Bella. I can't do that with you in the office. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I agree, hating to admit that he's right. With even just a hint of a conflict of interest, his lawyers will hit hard. My being around will only add fuel to their fire and arguments.

"Good. I will send someone to pick up the files. Take care and I will call if there's any relevant information that you should know," he says formally.

Hanging up, I slam my phone down frustrated that I just lost access to the information I need to figure this out.

"I see that Newton is still the same," Edward grumbles.

"Yup. Unfortunately, some things never change," I mutter avoiding his inquiring eyes.

"What was all that talk about a suspension?"

"He's putting me on administrative leave."

"I always wanted to knock that fucking smirk right off his face, maybe now's the time," Edward contemplates, his jaw tightening.

"As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. I'd comprise everything if I'm around the office right now."

Maybe my unexpected "vacation" will work to my advantage. It will give me more time to sort out all of these inconsistencies surrounding my life. The only challenge will be getting access to information. I guess I could always rely on alternative channels instead.

"Bella? Bella!" Edward's concerned voice disrupts my train of thought.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you are okay."

I must have drifted off more than I realized. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Taking some time off might be good right now."

"Being off the case is probably safer," Edward rationalizes.

"Right," I respond causally not wanting him to know that stepping away is the last thing I intend to do.

"So, uh, how are you doing…you know after last night?" Edward nervously looks at the floor.

"Okay, I guess, but I am curious as to how I ended up on the couch with you."

Edward looks up, slightly embarrassed. "I thought the couch would be more comfortable, especially since I was too keyed up to need it. As strange as it sounds, watching you sleep helped me to sort out some things in my head. I guess at some point I crashed." He takes a step closer. "I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I haven't slept that good in a long time," he whispers, a familiar spark in his eyes.

"Please don't push me, Edward. I'm not ready," I say stepping out of his reach. There is just too much to resolve before I allow him to get any closer.

"Of course. I promised I would give you time and I will."

Luckily, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs prevents us from falling into awkward small talk. Apparently, neither of us knows exactly how to act after the revelations of last night.

"Good morning, sunshine," Emmett bellows, walking into the dining room with Rose following closely behind.

"Morning," I say with a smile while Edward simply acknowledges everyone with a nod of his head.

"Man, I'm starving!" Emmett announces rubbing his stomach.

"Subtle, Em. Would you like some breakfast?" I ask sweetly.

"Aww, Bells. How generous of you. I would love some!" He winks.

"You're such an ass," Rose adds smacking him lightly on the back of the head.

"Yes, but I'm your ass, baby." He leans down to give her a kiss.

"How about crepes and omelets?" I ignore the feelings bubbling up watching them interact. I miss having that connection with someone. "Oh, by the way, Sam called earlier. He's on his way," I blurt out wanting to see how Edward reacts to the news.

"From Seattle?" Rose asks.

I nod my head. "He said he found something. He didn't sound happy."

"Hopefully, it gives us a better lead than what we have now," Emmett says.

"Is this the Sam from the other night?" Edward asks gruffly.

"Yeah. Don't feel like you have to stick around," I say offhandedly, allowing him an out.

Another ringtone pierces the air, although this time it's Edward's phone and not mine that interrupts our conversation. Taking it out of his pocket, he quickly glances at the screen. "What's up, Kate?" He listens quietly, mumbling in agreement. With sudden determination, he looks directly at me as he responds. "No, I'm not coming in today. Send it to my phone, I can review it from here…just reschedule them…no this is more important…then I'll deal with the consequences…Is there anything else? Okay talk to you later." He hangs up his phone decisively. "I'm staying."

"Okay then," I acknowledge, heading into the kitchen so that I can start getting breakfast together. I'm not sure how I feel about Edward's decision to stay. I should be relieved that he's not concerned, and yet I don't know if I'm up for another confrontation.

"You really don't have to make us breakfast, Bella. That's not why we're here," Rose says following me.

"It's okay, I really don't mind."

"Can I help?" Edward asks quietly.

"Um, no offense, but I think it would be best if you stay away from all food preparation," I assert remembering how dangerous he was in the kitchen.

He gives me a shy smile. "Actually, I've taken some cooking classes, and I'm pretty good if I do say so myself."

"This I have to see," Emmett laughs.

"Really?" I'm shocked considering that his skills were beyond redemption. I wonder what master chef helped him.

"Really. In fact, why don't you let me handle breakfast? If you aren't impressed, I promise never to step foot in your kitchen again."

"I'm not sure," I say hesitantly.

"Please, let me do this." Edward's eyes are soft and pleading.

"Fine."

"Come on, Bella, pull up a chair, and let's watch the master at work. This should be fun," Emmett says sarcastically, pulling out the stool next to him.

"Actually, I think that I'm going to take a shower so I don't have to witness the disaster."

"You just wait. I will amaze your senses and palette," Edward claims with a crooked smile.

"Uh huh," I mumble before turning to walk up the stairs. "By the way, the fire extinguisher is under the sink." His laughter follows me up the stairs.

Once I get to my bedroom, I walk over to the nightstand and pull out a notebook. I need to organize my thoughts. Grabbing a pen, I write down the details of Edward's story last night, specifically timeframes. What he conveniently left out of our discussion was names.

I decide that my first priority is finding out exactly who shared information about this supposed threat with Edward. Secondly, I need to know more about what Global has been up to over the last three years. If Edward is being honest about his reason for taking over, it should show through their business transactions.

Flipping the page over, I write out what I need to know about my dad, starting with this mysterious bank account. Sam never gave me the specifics of exactly where this account is located or how they discovered it. I also take a moment to draw a rough sketch of the symbol I found in his journal. Figuring out why it was there might just be the key to everything. After writing everything out, I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite justice junkie. I've been waiting for your call," Ben Cheney proclaims as soon as he picks up the phone.

"And why is that?"

"You know that Paul is worse than a school girl when it comes to gossip. He told me all about what went down at the Fillmore. In fact, I'm a little insulted that it took you so long to ask for my services."

Ben is a private investigator who likes to live on the fringe of society. On the down low a little over two and a half years ago, Paul introduced us when I was struggling to get movement on a case. The authorities had reached a dead end and Paul suggested that Ben might be able to help me. He runs a very specialized practice, and I learned quickly that his talents know no end. He also doesn't tend to get his information through traditional channels, which is why he is my last resort only when I need help to point me in the right direction on a case.

I don't know specifically how they met, but I know that Paul trusts Ben with his life. Although I have only used his services on a handful of occasions, in a strange twist of fate, Ben has become a trusted, albeit secret, friend of mine as well. Since no one, not even Jasper, knows about him, he is also currently the only person in my life not personally involved in this crazy situation.

"Believe me, I wish I had called sooner. Things are so fucked up, I can't even explain it."

"I'm guessing we need to track these assholes down."

"It's actually a lot more complicated than that, Ben."

"Oh complicated, my favorite. How badly do you want information?"

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"Yup. You okay with me using all means?"

"Whatever it takes," I answer definitively.

"You got it," he says. I can hear the excited smirk in his voice. "Give me the rundown on these creeps. Do we know anything about them?"

"Wait, I really want you to understand what you're getting into here," I warn. "And if you decide that it's too much, you can walk away, and I won't think twice about it."

"Aww, Justice, you should know me better than that. You just threw down the gauntlet. I don't care what the deal is. I am all in, so lay it on me."

I spend the next several minutes laying out the details of my twisted tale. Finally finished, the line is eerily silent, making me wonder if he was wrong in his belief that he could handle it.

"You weren't kidding about complications," he whispers. "But it sounds like a party I don't want to miss either."

"Really?" I ask thankfully.

"Are you kidding? Espionage, criminal master minds…you can't write this shit. I told you that I love a challenge."

"Where do we start?"

"First let me find out exactly who and where this Diego is. That will give us an idea of what else he is involved in, as well as give me some more trails to follow. I also want to track down this supposed bank account and verify that it was actually your father who opened it."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"Not long, I just need to get access," he says confidently.

"What kind of access?"

"Justice, there are some things you shouldn't know about. Plausible deniability doesn't just work for the bad guys. Let me worry about the how's."

"Okay."

"I'll also run a check on Global and Edward Cullen to see if I can get some specifics on his whereabouts over the last three years. Bella," he says quietly, "it sounds like this guy meant a lot to you. Are you sure you want to know all the details?"

"I'm sure. I can't keep running from things."

"As long as you're sure. Now what about this Sam guy? Do you trust him?"

"Yes...I guess, I mean Rose says he's a good agent and he's been trying to help me."

"Yeah, well I'm not willing to take anything at face value at this point. I think I'll take a little look-see into him too."

"Thank you, Ben. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't mention it. That's what I'm here for. I've wanted to help ever since I learned about your dad's death, but Paul convinced me to hold off. He said you needed to ask for help in your own time. I'm just glad that you finally called."

"Me too."

"I'll be in touch soon," he says before hanging up.

Glancing at the clock, I realize that I'd better get ready before someone comes looking for me. Turning on the radio in my bathroom, I step into the shower and linger under the spray longer than normal, letting the hot water wash the craziness of yesterday off me. There is still a lot ahead of me, but calling Ben has given me a sense of direction and a purpose that I haven't felt in a long time.

Feeling refreshed and focused, I step out of the bathroom to grab my clothes just as the bedroom door opens and Edward walks in slowly still knocking. "Bella," he says loudly, stopping short when he sees me. His eyes scan my body, my hand automatically tightening my grasp on the towel. "I'm sorry. I knocked several times, but you didn't answer. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he chokes out, averting his eyes.

"I had the radio on," I whisper. "What do you need?"

"Breakfast is ready."

"Thanks, I'll be right down."

"Umm, yeah, I should let you get dress," he says glancing down my body again while backing out of the door.

"Hey, any suggestions on the attire I should wear for my last meal?" I ask trying to lighten the mood. We're never going to get anywhere if we stay locked in this 'awkward' zone. The more information I can get from Edward, the easier it will be for Ben to track down the details of his life these last three years.

Edward shoots me a blinding smile. "Be nice, Swan or I'll never cook for you again."

"Sounds like a win rather than a threat."

"Just wait. Once you taste it, you'll be eating your words."

"We'll see. Oh and Cullen, my eyes are up here," I say sarcastically waving my hand in front of my face. Edward blushes giving me a tight smile, before darting out the door, closing it behind him.

* * *

The kitchen smells heavenly when I get back downstairs, the sight stopping me in my tracks. Edward has transformed the island into a breakfast heaven. Three perfect place settings sit in front of the stools, the napkin nicely presented in the center. In the middle of the counter, there is a bowl filled with fresh cut strawberries. Next to it, sits a plate of homemade waffles and a dish of fluffy eggs. I have seriously underestimated Edward's new cooking abilities if this tastes half as good as it looks and smells.

"Why are there only three settings?" I ask, trying to play off how impressed I am.

"Rose went to the DOJ to talk to Jasper," Emmett answers. I'm not surprised that she left. Rose isn't one to keep quiet for long. It was only a matter of time before she and Edward got into it again.

"Any updates?" I ask.

"No. Jasper's not getting anywhere, so Rose is going to try and pull some strings."

"I take it that the other guy got away."

"Yeah, there's no sign of him," Emmett confirms.

"Yet," Edward adds.

"Come on, the more time that passes the less likely we are to find him," I point out.

"Not necessarily. That's the thing with criminal organizations," Edward retorts, "they're like a house of cards. Once they start to tumble, everything tends to falls apart quickly. All we need is the right card, and then people will give him up."

Emmett glances at Edward oddly for a moment before focusing back on the food. "I'm starving, let's eat."

Sitting down, I pile food on my plate, still amazed that Edward did all of this. Dipping my fork into the eggs, I look up to find him staring at me. A nervous grin plastered on his face. "I promise these are a hundred percent better than last time."

Raising my eyebrow, I look him straight in the eye putting the eggs in my mouth and chewing. I work to keep my face neutral, but it is hard considering that they are fantastic. Light, fluffy, cheesy, and perfectly seasoned.

"Holy hell, this tastes amazing. Bella, I think you just lost your title for most kick ass breakfast," Emmett murmurs, stuffing more food into his mouth.

"They are good," I acknowledge. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"I spent several months in Paris after I left. There was a cooking school down the block from my apartment. I convinced one the chefs to give me lessons at night."

"What made you suddenly interested in cooking?"

"You," he declares with a shy smile. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh," I say quietly, processing the implications of his words.

"It killed me not to be able to contact you. The least I could do is make sure that every choice I made was for you." As usual, our conversation feels heavy, loaded with unspoken implications. At least today, there is less hesitation behind his words.

"When were you in Paris?" I ask putting a mental timetable together.

"About six months after I left."

His admission lingers in my mind as we eat quietly. I'm not sure how I feel about his answer. He admitted last night that he changed his plans about staying away, but I didn't realize how quickly that change occurred.

Finished with my breakfast, I stand to put my plate in the sink, when Emmett stops me. "I'll get this. Edward cooked and you put me up for the night. That means the dishes are mine. Why don't you go and relax for a while."

"Sure," I answer sarcastically knowing that there's no way I'll be able to rest before Sam's arrival, especially with this nervous energy pulsing through my veins.

"Bella, I'm going to get a change of clothes out of my car. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to clean up?" Edward asks, finishing his breakfast as well.

"Of course not. There are towels under the sink, and there should be extra soap and shampoo in the shower."

"Thanks," he says giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Knowing that I just can't sit around, I decide to get the files together for Garrett and clean up the mess left behind by going through my dad's boxes. After putting the Biers files in a travel crate, I box up my dad's stuff again. Walking over to the hall closet, I look at the remaining boxes that I still have to go through. For organizational purposes, I decide that it would be better to pull those boxes out before putting the others back. After everything that happened last night, I don't know if everyone is still planning to help me go through them, but I should be ready just in case.

Standing on my tiptoes, I reach up to pull one of the top boxes down. Using my fingertips, I awkwardly scoot the heavy box forward so that I can get a better grip on it. Moving it incrementally off the edge of the other box, the laws of gravity suddenly take over. The majority of the box's weight falls heavily against my arms as the back end remains perched precariously against the edge of the other box.

"Crap," I mutter wondering how I'm going to get out of this without injury or embarrassment.

Before the box falls any further, I unexpectedly feel heat against my back as strong arms reach around, the smells of soap, mint, and Edward surrounding me.

"I got it," Edward whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

"Thanks," I breathe out.

Edward easily lifts the box over me and walks out of the closet. I shake off the tingling sensation he leaves behind and follow him out, wishing that my body and mind would coordinate their responses to him.

"What's the plan with these?" he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his red shirt.

His hair is still wet, his jeans hanging loose on his hips. The gauze is now absent from his head and his face looks better than yesterday. As usual, he looks like he could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.

"I wanted to move these out and those in," I say pointing towards the pile of boxes I gathered earlier.

"Got it," he says eagerly going back into the closet to take out another box.

While he focuses on that, I start bringing the other boxes closer to the closet. Taking a black marker out of my desk, I mark each top with an X so that I can keep track of the ones I've sorted through and the one's I haven't.

Within no time, Edward finishes pulling out the unsorted boxes, and then quickly turns his attention to putting the others away. Watching as Edward places the last box in the closet, I struggle not to stare at his toned arms. When he turns to close the door, I spot some unexpected black peeking out from under his shirt on his left bicep.

"When did you get that?" I ask lightly placing my hand on his arm.

He swiftly looks down at my hand before looking back up, his face full of confusion and hope. Curious, my eyes silently ask permission to look. Nodding his head, I shove the material up further slowly revealing the entire tattoo.

The majority of the unique symbol resides on his shoulder. In the center of the design, there is a dagger with a handle that has three rounded points. Above the handle, two arching points curl around the dagger on the outside. Two half circles surrounding the blade on the inside. Its shaded black, some parts lighter than others.

"What does it mean," I ask tracing the shape with my finger.

"It's a tribal symbol for faith. I got it to remind myself of why I was doing this."

"It's beautiful," I mumble still fascinated by the intricate details.

"See this," he asks brushing his fingers over the swirling letters in the middle of the blade. "It's the word 'heart' written in Sanskrit and this," he says pointing to a tiny "B" in the center of the middle point, "is where my heart lies." The b is almost completely hidden within the shading. Without him pointing it out, I would have missed it. The knowledge of its presence clearly intended for him only.

"Oh," I whisper, my breath hitching at the sight.

"I told you last night, Bella, my feelings have never changed."

"All's quiet on the western front," Emmett's hollers as he walks through the door after doing another check with the patrols outside.

Jumping away from Edward, I clear my throat before answering. "No news?"

"Nope."

"It seems ridiculous to have patrols watching me. There's no evidence that he's coming back anytime soon and Riley's not stupid enough to try again with all of this attention."

"We don't know that he won't either and it's not worth the risk to find out," Edward argues.

"It's my call to make."

"Actually, it's not," Emmett interrupts. "Word came in this morning that the FBI, specifically Sam, is officially taking over. I guess he's going to assess the need for your security detail when he gets here."

"Great," Edward grumbles.

This could work to my advantage. I think I can probably convince him that they are unnecessary. I will need some leeway to investigate things on my own; having a detail makes going anywhere problematic.

A knock on the door prevents Edward from making another argument. "Speak of the devil," Emmett comments looking out the peephole.

"Bella." Sam rushes in and pulls me into a hug as soon as Emmett opens the door. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Stepping out of his arms, I give him a small smile. "I'm fine."

"What the hell is he doing here?" Sam shouts finally noticing Edward standing behind me.

"It's none of your business why I'm here. You're not her keeper," Edward snarls back.

"He was already here when you called," I clarify. "I decided that he could stay."

"Bella, we need to talk." Sam wraps his hand around my arm. "In private," he clarifies glaring at Edward.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can say right here," Edward argues moving closer to me.

"This is official business, Cullen. Besides I don't trust you."

"Oh good, then we're even because I don't trust you either." Edward's eyes keep glancing down to Sam's hand on my arm.

"I'm not the one who's on a watch list, so if you want to talk about who should trust who, let's do it," Sam yells pulling me slightly behind him.

"Knock it off you two!" Emmett shouts, stepping between them. Edward continues to glare at Sam's hand, his nostrils flaring as his body leans forward.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Edward's tone is chilling.

"I think I know more that you realize," Sam sneers back.

Edward cocks his head to side, evaluating him closely. I can see his mind working to figure out Sam's angle. "What do you think you know?" he asks lowly not backing down. He doesn't seem worried about what Sam might say.

"I hear that you're following of the footsteps of your grandfather. Tell me, Cullen, you gonna lock Bella up just like your mother after you ruin her life too?"

"You son of a bitch!" Edward shouts moving forward. Breaking my arm free of Sam's grasp, I jump in between them, holding my hand out to prevent Edward from moving closer. Emmett focuses his attention on stopping Sam.

"That's enough!" I yell. "That was out of line, Sam," I chastise glaring at him. "And you," I say directing my heated gaze towards Edward. "Need to back away. I don't feel like turning my hallway into a boxing ring."

"I'm cool," Edward spits out, although I can feel his heart pounding against the palm of my hand.

"I think you should leave," Sam hisses.

"That's not your decision," Edward growls back.

"Edward," I whisper trying to get him to focus on me. "I need to talk to Sam, _alone_."

Edward's wide eyes turn to me. "Bella—"

Grabbing his hand, I pull him over to the corner of the room. He stumbles along behind me, his hand grasping mine tightly. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't have time for a macho standoff."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well you're not. I need to talk to Sam and that's obviously not going to happen as long as the two of you are in a room together."

"I don't trust him," Edward whispers, leaning closer his hand still clenching mine.

"Yeah I got that, but you also don't know him. He's FBI for God's sake."

"Like that means anything," he murmurs.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't take anything at face value, Bella." His words eerily mimic Ben's.

"Does that include you?" I ask irritated.

"I know I owe you the whole truth, but you can always believe that everything I do is for your benefit. Not everyone else can say the same," he utters cryptically.

"Hey," Emmett interrupts walking over. "Edward, let's go for a walk and give them a moment." Edward opens his mouth to protest, but Emmett cuts him off. "According to Rose, Sam's a good guy. We need to know what is going on if we are going to keep Bella safe. This pissing contest between the two of you is getting in the way. Let's just give them fifteen minutes."

"Thirty," I counter ignoring Edward's glare. "It's either that or you can just go. You're here on my invite, remember. If you can't do as I ask, you can leave." I glare right back, pointing my chin up. I refuse to back down on this. Edward doesn't have the right to make any decisions for me.

"Fine," he grates, knowing that he's not going to win. Stepping closer he reaches out and gently places his hands on my face. "Just remember, you know me better than anyone." Leaning forward, he kisses my forehead. His lips linger for a moment before he pulls away, his dark green eyes penetrating mine. "I love you."

Walking to the door with Emmett, he turns around, pinning Sam with a deadly stare. "I'll be back," he warns.

"See you in thirty," Emmett adds, pushing Edward forward so that he can close the door behind him.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam focuses all of his attention on me. "I asked you to stay away from the guy, not to invite him into your house. What in the hell were you thinking?" Sam barks.

"That's the second time someone has questioned my decisions today. I'm getting kind of sick of it." I walk to the living room, leaving Sam to decide whether he's going to follow.

"Maybe that should tell you something," he remarks.

Sitting on the chair, I motion for him to take a seat on the couch. "Maybe people should stop assuming that I don't know what I'm doing. Edward was already here when you called. It seemed pointless to tell him to leave."

Taking a deep breath, Sam tries to calm down. "I'm just looking out for you. This situation is spiraling out of control. We don't need to help it along any."

"Edward was the one who stopped those guys last night and got pretty beat up in the process. I didn't see the harm in letting him stay."

"You might change your mind after I show you what I found." He pulls an envelope out of his jacket.

"I thought you were looking into my dad, not Edward?" I ask, watching closely as he takes a photograph out and unfolds it.

"I was. I ran into this when looking into what your dad was doing."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"This was found in your dad's desk buried under a bunch of other papers. He clearly didn't want someone else to see it. Look familiar?" he asks handing me the blurry photo.

My heart pounds as my hand reaches out to grab it. The photo looks like it was taken from a distance, but not far enough away to prevent me from identifying the people it. The picture shows Edward standing on what looks like a pier, talking to none other than Riley Biers. Riley also appears to be handing something to him.

"When was this taken?" I whisper, breathless.

"We don't know. But don't you find it strange that he suddenly reappears in your life now? At the exact moment you're preparing to prosecute Biers. He's using your history against you, Bella. How do we know that he didn't have something to do with your dad's murder? You can't trust him."

"But last night…" I trail off trying to put all the pieces together.

"You mean how he just happened to be around when you were attacked?"

"He fought them off," I say quietly.

"He made you see what he wanted you to see, Bella. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Why would my dad have this?"

Sam looks down, clasping his hands tightly. "I don't know how to tell you this, Bella, but it's not looking good for your dad either."

"I don't understand." I put down the picture and run my hand through my hair trying to focus.

"Internal Affairs didn't give me all the details when I talked to them earlier. The investigation against your dad actually started before his death. He was assigned to investigate two separate cases that were connected to Riley's crew. Both cases were dismissed after critical evidence disappeared, and the dates of those dismissals coincide with a deposit made to your father's bank account."

"That makes no sense. I don't believe it!" I shout standing up.

"I wish I had something else to tell you, but there is more evidence to show that he was involved than not. Hell, maybe your ex brought him into this whole thing. Maybe Edward threatened to hurt you if your father didn't go along with it," he hypothesizes.

Moving back to the chair, I lean down and pick up the picture again. Holding it up closely, I try to look at Edward's face. It's hard to distinguish any details. I don't care what the evidence says; nothing about this situation makes sense. I can't help but think about last night when Edward and I were discussing my father. He seemed genuinely surprised and concerned. Could that have really all been a lie?

"I don't believe it," I mutter sitting back down.

Moving over to me, Sam kneels down and places his hand on mine rubbing it gently. "Hey, I'm on your side. We'll figure this out, okay."

"Yeah, okay," I mutter dismissively. Everyone keeps telling me not to take anything at face value. As far as I'm concerned, that includes what Sam is saying too. "How long do I need a detail?"

Sam leans back on his heels, surprised by my question. "At this point, I don't think the other guy is coming back. Riley wouldn't allow that much heat on him. We can probably call them off for now, if you promise to take some precautions."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm sorry, Bella. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but I meant what I said, we will figure this out."

"Thank you," I say placating him.

"What can I do?" he asks with sympathetic eyes.

"Can you give me some time? I need to process all this."

"Of course," he says sadly. "Listen, about those precautions, I don't want you to go anywhere alone. When you're here, keep your alarm engaged and your phone handy just in case."

"I can do that."

"Most importantly, please stay away from Edward Cullen," he implores.

"You know I can't agree to that, he's coming back in about twenty minutes." Sam's eyes darken. "But I promise to be careful."

"I guess I'll have to take that, for now," he sighs running his hand through his hair. "Do you plan on going into work tomorrow? I could pick you up and take you if you want?" Sam leans down to try to look in my eyes. I can tell he's concerned by my stoic answers.

"That's not necessary. I'm on leave until this all over," I grumble still annoyed by Mike's call.

"Oh, well in that case, how about I bring dinner over tomorrow night?" His other hand continues to rub the top of mine.

"Umm, why don't you give me a call and we'll see." I don't want to commit to anything; I have some plans of my own.

"I really don't feel good about leaving you like this." Sam sighs, his hand moving up to my shoulders.

"In the last few days, I've been attacked, placed on leave, and found out that my father might be a criminal. I need some time alone to sort it all out or my head is going to explode. Believe me, the best thing you can do right now is leave."

Releasing my shoulder, Sam reluctantly stands. "I'm going to call later and see how you're doing."

"Sounds good." I stand too, herding him towards the front. "I'll talk to you soon," I say opening the door.

"Yeah, talk to you soon," he whispers clearly not wanting to leave, but at this point I don't really care. His presence is suffocating.

Closing the door as soon as he steps onto the porch, I pull my phone from my pocket and rush up the stairs.

"Justice! We must be on the same wavelength. I was just about to call you," Ben says immediately.

"Good, I have something for you too. So, where in the world are you Carmen San Diego, I feel like a road trip."

"Got something?"

"I have a picture I want you to take a look at."

"Lucky for you, I'm only a few hours away. I'll text you the address, but you'll need a GPS to get here."

"Got it, and Ben, I hope it goes without saying that I don't want anyone to know where I'm going, including Paul."

"Sweetheart, living off the grid is my specialty. Your secret is safe with me."

"Great! I'll see you soon."

"Be safe," he calls out as I hang up.

I dash around my room throwing my wallet and a few other essentials into a bag. Walking into my closet, I grab the small box on the top shelf. Keying in the code, I open it and pull out the gun my father gave me when I moved to San Francisco. Stuffing it into the bag along with an extra pair of clothes, I grab my coat and run back downstairs knowing that I don't have much time before Emmett and Edward return.

Throwing on my hoodie to cover my head, I close the front door and move over to the edge of my property rather than walk down the sidewalk. Creeping along the hedge, I peer around the corner to where the patrol car had been located. I'm happy to see that spot is now empty. Sam did his job quickly.

Not seeing any sign of Edward and Emmett, I step out and walk quickly to the tiny garage next to my house. Using my key on the lock, I throw the door up and rush inside. The air in my car smells stale and dusty; I haven't driven it since right after my dad died. I usually only used it when I went to visit him. Pulling the car out into the drive, I jump back out to close and lock the door again.

Hitting the contacts icon, I find Emmett's number so that I can send him a message letting him know that I had to run an errand and not to worry. My friends will be less than pleased with my decision, but this is something that I have to do. Then typing in the address Ben sent into my phone, I engage the GPS and pull out into the street.

After weaving my way through the city, I pull onto the freeway with the sun in my rearview mirror. Feeling a strange combination of excitement and uneasiness, I push down harder on the accelerator wanting to escape quicker. I realize that I'm about to travel down a dark path, but it's one that I'm willing to take. I have no choice; I have to find the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: We meet Ben.


	10. Chapter 9: Think Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LostInPA is amazing. She is so generous with her time and I am so thankful that she is a part of my team! I also couldn't do this without TDS88, who is an amazing support! Finally, Beautifulnightmarex is always there to push me and check me on the little details, I am glad she continues to stick with me. :)

Chapter 9: Think Twice

_"…throw roses into the abyss and say: 'here is my thanks to the monster who didn't succeed in swallowing me alive'."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

_The full moon creates a hazy glow around me, the stillness of the beach disrupted only by the waves crashing against the shore. My body won't stop shivering. The cold sand feels like shards of ice assaulting my legs while the blanket I'm wrapped in provides little protection against the piercing wind. Yet, I remain quiet and vigil, hoping that my presence alone is enough to help._

_Edward has been distracted all week. Something is weighing heavily on him, although he denies it every time I ask. An hour ago, he unexpectedly showed up at my door asking me to take a drive, unfazed by the fact that it was one o'clock in the morning. However, I didn't hesitate to go assuming his invitation meant that he was finally ready to confide in me._

_We've been sitting silently on the beach for the last twenty minutes while he stares off into the distance, clutching my hand tightly. I want to give him space to work this through, but his odd behavior is starting to worry me._

_"What do you dream?" Edward asks keeping his eyes forward._

_"Huh?" A gust of wind sends another tremor through my body as I awkwardly try to pull the blanket tighter with one hand._

_"Are your dreams pleasant? They seem to be."_

_"As good as most people I guess. How about yours?" I inquire, believing that route will open a door to his consciousness more than questioning him about why he wants to know._

_"Mine are pretty haunted," he whispers._

_"What haunts them?" I inch closer wanting him to feel my presence._

_A bitter laugh escapes his lips, his hand gripping mine harder. "Right now? Everything."_

_"Edward, what's wrong?"_

_"Did you ever watch Star Trek?"_

_Gaping for a moment, I try to understand the seemingly random change of topic, hiding my frustration that he completely ignored my question. "A few of the movies, but not the show."_

_"Did you see the one where Spock dies?"_

_"Umm, a long time ago I think. Why?"_

_"He sacrificed himself for the ship. It's a classic line. The good of the many outweigh the good of the one, or something to that effect."_

_"Yeah, I think I remember that scene," I answer, still trying to connect his jumbled words._

_"I've been thinking about whether that theory is true."_

_"I don't think you can debate whether or not it's true, but I imagine most people struggle with making that type of choice," I theorize, watching him closely for any type of reaction._

_"Do you think you could sacrifice yourself?"_

_"I'd like to think so, but I guess I wouldn't really know until I was faced with the situation."_

_"Yeah, I guess not." Edward lifts his head skyward, maybe searching for whatever answers he's trying to find._

_We sit quietly for several more minutes. He seems lost; a sharp change from the confident man I know and love. Suddenly he turns to face me. "I...I don't…" he pauses struggling for words._

_Edward opens his mouth to speak again, when something over my shoulder catches his attention, his eyes narrowing. Glancing back, I can't see anything but shadows. "What?" I ask, watching as Edward continues to scan the beach._

_"Nothing. I thought I saw something. We should go."_

_"Edward, you're scaring me."_

_Caressing my face, he leans in to give me a tender kiss. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just being stupid. Come on, let's get you back home before you freeze."_

_He stands and offers me his hand. After carefully readjusting the blanket, he swings his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to kiss my temple. We walk wordlessly to the car, his hand rubbing my arm to warm me._

_When he opens the passenger door, I reach up and gently turn his face towards me. "Hey," I say trying to get his attention. "I love you. I don't know what's going on, but I'm here, whenever you're ready."_

_He nods his head, reaching around to pull me into a bone-crushing hug. I temper my increasing concern by reminding myself that this is Edward. We are stronger than whatever is happening._

* * *

Once again, a conversation from long ago takes on a new meaning. After he left, through the haze of my anger, I concluded our middle of the night trip was his way of working through the fact that he wanted to leave. Convincing myself that his actions were just a part of his tangled lies, and until now, I didn't care about the details of what he was trying to say.

With hindsight, the memory provides yet one more piece of the puzzle that Edward is revealing. His claims of not wanting to leave certainly fit with his behavior that night, more so than Sam's claims that he is using me.

My pulse speeds up as the picture of Riley and Edward flashes through my mind again. "Auughh!" I roar, hitting my hand against the steering wheel. "Pull it together, Swan." If I'm going to find the truth, I need to examine everything objectively. I can't do that if I allow my emotions to get in the way.

Taking a calming breath, I focus on maneuvering my car carefully along the twisty one-lane road leading to Ben's cabin. The headlights are the only source of light, brightening a narrow path in the middle of what feels like infinite darkness. Pressing the brakes, the car almost crawls around a particularly sharp turn, my lead foot tamed by the unknowns of this treacherous road.

On the plus side, my nervousness about driving off a cliff keeps me sharp and aware even though exhaustion set in long ago. Ben's stated "a few hours" drive was really, by distance, a four-hour drive. However, the timing of my journey couldn't have been worse, so four quickly became six with rush hour traffic.

I glance at my phone, checking the progress of the dot moving along the screen. Thankfully, it's finally silent; if it weren't for the GPS, I would have shut it off long ago. As soon as Emmett received my text, it started vibrating continually with calls and texts from my concerned friends. The only one who's been conspicuously quiet is Sam, who has either not been informed of my absence or is simply silent in his anger. Neither of which I can muster the strength to care about right now.

I spoke briefly to Emmett, Jasper, and Rose, giving them a vague excuse about needing to get away. It seemed like the most plausible explanation, especially since my administrative leave and being released from the watchful eyes of my security detail provided the perfect opportunity of timing. When they held to their concerns, I threw in that getting away while the second suspect is still on the loose is probably the safest thing to do.

Although, I pride myself on being a quick thinker in the courtroom, I never thought I would use the trait to deceive my friends. Nevertheless, when pressed for information, I told them I was heading up the coast, blatantly spinning a tale about looking for a sleepy town where I could crash. I hate lying, but it's for their own good, and when it comes to Ben's anonymity, I have no choice.

The long drive provided nothing but time to think about everything. The majority of it spent analyzing the conflicting information about who Edward is and why he returned. I've avoided speaking with him directly, although I could hear him in the background when I talked with Emmett, the desperation in his voice palpable. The implications of that picture should mark the end of Edward's chances with me, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on.

Of course, my father is a whole other complicated layer. The father I knew, the man who believed in justice above all else, would not get rid of evidence. He would not take a bribe. The only way I can remotely wrap my mind around it is if he did it to protect me, as Edward and Sam suggested. If that is the case, I need Ben to help me find whoever is holding the strings quickly. Make no mistake, I will make them pay for my dad's murder, no matter who it is.

Hitting a large and jagged pothole, the car suddenly jerks, yanking me away from my musings. Ben was not kidding about being off the grid. This place is miles from any main road, well hidden within the Eldorado National Forest. I shouldn't have expected anything different; it is always an adventure to meet up with him. Although he owns a couple of houses, Ben is a drifter by trade, bouncing between different cities and continents, never staying in one place for long.

Turning another corner, I finally spot the address I'm looking for branded on a small wooden post. Pulling onto the long driveway, the road narrows even further. After another minute of driving around curves and over a hill, the house finally comes into view. Shocked by the sight, I slam on the brakes causing a small cloud of billowy dust to float past the window as I take in the cabin in front of me. It's as if I've walked into the scene of a horror movie and at any moment, a man in a hockey mask is going to step out of the darkness and chase me with a machete.

The headlights of the car accentuate the faded and weathered wood of the small cabin. A crumbling sidewalk leads to a dilapidated porch, the stairs warped and uneven, while the overgrown yard is speckled with fallen pinecones and broken branches. If it weren't for the soft light coming out of the side window, I would swear the thing was abandoned long ago.

"This can't be right," I whisper, convinced I took a wrong turn somewhere. Double-checking my directions, light suddenly spills out onto the porch as the door opens and Ben steps out with a big grin.

"You made it," he yells, although his voice sounds muffled through the windshield.

Rolling down the window, I lean my head out. "What's with the condemned house?"

"It's not condemned, it's rustic," he says proudly.

"I've got to be honest, I'm a little afraid to get out of the car."

"When did you become such a wilting flower?" Ben admonishes with a smile. "Get over here."

Turning the car off, I step out and walk towards him with a smile of my own. As usual, Ben's appearance is a surprise. He's had a different style every time we've met, but this one has me particularly perplexed. Although Ben is in his mid-thirties, at first glance anyone would assume that he's in his early twenties. He's wearing a black, retro Rolling Stone tee shirt over a long sleeved grey shirt; both hang over the waist of his dark skinny jeans. A black knitted hat sits snuggly on his head covering his overgrown brown hair. Standing with his arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched, his tall body appears almost scrawny, however, I know underneath his shirts are toned and well-trained muscles. I have no doubt that every aspect of his appearance and stance is purposeful. Ben always knows exactly what he's doing and is a master at blending in.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind."

"Yeah, well _someone_ needs to improve on their travel time estimations. A few hours my ass," I tease walking into his waiting arms.

"I'm glad you came."

"So am I." Just being here gives me a sense of relief. "What's with the college boy look? Trying to date under your age group?"

"What?" he asks, stepping back with his arms open wide. "You don't think I can pull it off?"

"No, you're totally pulling it off, that's the scary part. I suppose you can't tell me why."

"Nope, you know the rules. It's better if you don't know the details. I'll just say though that blending in with the ski crowd is exhausting," he says with a sly wink waving me through the door.

"Ski crowd, interesting," I quip, looking around the cabin.

The inside is a complete contrast to the outside. The wood walls look well maintained and are a nice contrast to the chocolate-colored carpet. There is a fire roaring in the hearth in the corner of the living room providing the cabin with a cozy glow. Across from the door resides a tiny kitchen with expensive looking appliances, including a fancy looking coffeemaker. To the left there is a narrow hallway leading to, I assume, the bathroom and bedroom.

Ben's "office" is set up across from the living room. There is a large oak desk with two computer monitors and a keyboard. A wire shelf stands next to it, stuffed with various other electronic equipment from cameras, speakers, extra monitors and other high tech devices I can't quite identify. I'm sure the equipment in that corner alone cost more than this entire cabin.

"What do you think?"

"It's nice. What's the, umm, bed situation?" I question hesitantly, suddenly wondering how this is going to work in such a small space.

"You don't mind sharing, right?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

I glance back alarmed. "Is that my only option?"

"It's not like I can take that tiny thing," he says pointing to the small couch in front of the fireplace. "I mean, look at me. There's no way I'd fit on that shit."

"Now who's being the delicate flower?" I ask with a raise of my eyebrow. "But seriously, I can take the floor."

"Don't worry, there are two bedrooms down the hallway," he says laughing. "I just couldn't resist giving you a hard time. Do you really think I'd invite you here without having a place for you to sleep?"

"M-maybe," I stammer embarrassed.

"I'm hurt, Justice, I really am." Ben shakes his head, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes. "You want something to eat?" he asks, walking over to the kitchen.

"I had dinner on the road, but I would love some tea if you have any."

"Yup. Black, green, herbal, what's your poison?"

"Herbal would be great."

Ben places a teapot on the stove, masterfully lighting the burner with a match. After reaching into the overhead cabinet to take out a mug, he pulls a teabag out of a canister on the counter and places it in the cup. "How is everyone taking your departure?"

"They think I've lost my mind. Who knows, maybe I have." I sit on one of the chairs surrounding the table next to the kitchen, watching him work.

Ben stops what he's doing and looks up. "Bullshit! Don't start second-guessing yourself now. You've been through hell the last few days. Fuck 'em if they don't understand that."

I smile at his no bullshit manner. "You're right. I need to do this. I'm tired of being on the defensive."

"Damn straight. It's time to kick some ass," he proclaims as the kettle starts to whistle. Turning quickly, he takes it off the stove.

"You sure you want to get on this crazy train with me?"

After pouring the water into the cup and bringing it over, he sits in the chair across from me with a serious look. "I know we don't have a traditional friendship, but over the last two plus years, you've wormed your way into my inner circle. That means, my dear, that you have an ally for life. And for the record, everyone needs someone in their corner. Don't let all this other shit convince you any different."

"I won't," I promise him. "Not anymore."

"Good!" He smiles, the edge of earlier fading away. "What should we do now? Do you want to start hitting it tonight or are you too tired?"

"Let's get started. I don't want to waste any more time." Exhaustion will just have to wait.

Nodding his head, Ben gets up and walks over to his desk to grab a stack of neatly organized papers. Sitting back down, he flips through them quietly for a moment. "So, I started with the infamous bank account," he says, taking one of the papers and handing it to me.

"What am I looking at?" Lines of what looks like computer code fills the top portion of the page.

"That shows the trail of the account. It was set up electronically. The notes in the case file claim that detectives connected it to your dad's IP address, which is that number right here," he says pointing to the top of the page.

My shoulders slump, "This kind of evidence is a prosecutor's dream," I comment, looking down at the paper again.

"Hey," Ben says getting my attention. "Do you believe your dad did this?"

"No, I just…I just can't."

"Then I don't either. The evidence is strong, but the digital world is tricky. Luckily, for you, I know the ins and outs better than most. I'll find a crack, don't worry."

"Thank you," I say gratefully. He's one of the few who has supported my dad's innocence without adding a clarifier. "Wait, did you say case file? How do you know what the notes say?"

Ben looks up with a sly grin. "Any means possible, remember."

"You hacked into Seattle's PD's files."

"Yup. From what I can gather, the money that was deposited came from a supposed untraceable off-shore account."

"So we can't track its origin."

"That's why I said 'supposed'. Everything leaves a trail. It is just a matter of how hard you need to look."

"Another crack?" I ask.

Ben nods his head with a smirk. "Exactly."

"How about the dates Sam mentioned?"

"The file on your dad does show a connection between evidence going missing and payments."

"Another slam dunk," I mutter looking at things through a prosecutor's eyes. Between the IP address and payments, I would be willing to take a case like this to court without any concerns.

Ben leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "But that's what bothers me. It's too clean."

"What are you thinking?"

"For one, why set up a local account in the first place?" Leaning forward again, he turns over one of the papers and grabs a pen, doodling out a few figures to emphasize his point that their theory doesn't connect. Ben always thinks better in pictures. "Here I am, a detective working for a criminal Kingpin, but I'm stupid enough to set up a basic 'e-trades' type account that I know any first year detective would check for. Why wouldn't I set up an off-shore account instead?" Ben hypothesizes, twirling the pencil around his fingers.

I process his words looking at his scribbled chart. "That's a good point." My dad wasn't stupid and he was a veteran cop. As much as it turns my stomach to think about him turning dirty, he definitely wouldn't be stupid about it if he went that route.

"And secondly, he never checked it."

"What?" I ask incredulously.

"The account was never accessed until the cops requested information on it." Focusing again on the paper, he starts another rough figure. "For practical purpose, let's set aside the stupidity of how it was set up. Wouldn't you at least check it to make sure your money went through before you did another job?"

"But wait, he did access it. Sam said he took out just enough to cover his bills."

Ben looks up the paper, confusion flashing across his face before it turns into a frown. "Sam's wrong. There's no evidence of any activity, let alone a withdrawal."

"What if someone just covered it up? You know, tried to clean things up after his death." I'm trying to contain my excitement. I know exactly what Ben is implying, but to prove my dad's innocence, we need to explore every possibility. Which means, as much as I hate it, I need to take the devil's advocate role right now.

"I'm sure about him not taking out any money. The daily balance of the account never changed. As for covering up that he checked it? It would be difficult, but not impossible." Before I can ask another question, he holds up his hand to stop me. "But before we get too far down that 'what if' road, let's be realistic. If Riley was trying to cover up that your dad was on his payroll, they would have just erased the whole fucking account."

Feeling vindicated, I can't stop the teeth-revealing grin that breaks out on my face. "He was set up."

"That's what my gut tells me. I need to find those cracks to prove it, but just give me some time and we'll nail these sons of bitches."

"The IP address will still be difficult to explain."

"I have some theories, but let me check a couple of things out before I share, okay."

Nodding my head, I can't stop smiling. "You have no idea how relieved I am. In my heart, I knew it, but every day something else proved me wrong. I felt like I was going crazy."

"Don't get too excited yet, we still have a long road ahead of us."

"I know, but it gives me something to hold onto again. I'd thought I lost that today."

Ben gives me a knowing grin. "Just call me Ben Cheney, Restorer of Faith! I think I deserve a cape or something," he jokes, standing up to hold his hands on his hips while sticking out his chest.

"And with that move, Mr. Restorer is asked never to return to the superhero clubhouse," I remark with a sarcastic tone.

"That's harsh, Justice." He pouts sitting back down. "Fine, back to business. Now, what about this picture?"

Getting up, I go over to my pile of stuff by the door and pull out the picture. "Here," I say, quietly giving it to Ben. "Sam gave me that today. It's Edward and Riley. He says it was buried in my dad's desk."

Ben stares at it for a while. "What an interesting twist to this convoluted party." Looking at me, he holds the picture up. "I take it this doesn't fit with previous conversations."

"No. Edward claims he doesn't really know Riley. And then why my dad would have it…" I pause to take a breath. "I just don't know what to think."

Ben looks down at the picture again. "Well, forgive me if I don't take anything that Sam says as gospel. That little bit of misinformation about your dad's account just reinforces my initial instinct to investigate him. How did you get him to leave this with you?"

"I kicked him out after he showed it to me. He was upset when I asked him to leave, so I think he just forgot to ask for it back."

Ben looks up again. "Don't you find it strange that he would be upset enough to leave important evidence behind just because you asked him to go? What kind of relationship do you have with him anyway?"

"Friends, I guess," Ben shoots me a disbelieving look. "The truth is I haven't known him long. We hit it off when we first met, but things have been crazy since I found my dad's journal."

"Hmmm, the journal he still has a copy of right," he states cryptically, looking down at the picture again. "Hold on a second." Jumping up, he walks over to his desk, pulling out a large magnifying glass with a light.

"What?" I ask, following him.

"I'm not sure. Do you mind if I hang onto this?" He continues to look at the picture closely through the magnifying glass.

"Of course not." I watch him hoping for a clue about what he's thinking, but he gives nothing away.

"Thanks," he utters, placing it on his desk. Turning to face me, he leans against his desk, crossing his arms. "You look worn out."

"Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Just calling it like I see it. When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I honestly don't even know," I admit honestly.

"Then it's time for bed. This not taking care of yourself shit stops now. You can't take the offensive if you're on your last leg."

"Yes, Sir," I joke with a mock salute.

"You jest, but seriously, we can deal with the rest of this tomorrow."

"You're right, I sh…" My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, distracting me from my train of thought. Taking it out, I see two messages from Emmett, the first just a phone number, the second an explanation.

_This is Edward's number. He's losing his mind a bit. Can you give him a call? You don't need to say much, he just wants to hear your voice, that's it._

I stare at the phone until the screen goes black again. Feeling the extra security of distance, I'm tempted to call and probe for more information.

"Anything going on?" Ben asks, watching me carefully.

"Edward wants me to call."

"The guy's certainly persistent, I'll give him that. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to call and get some answers," I respond, still looking at the phone.

"Damn straight! Take control, Justice."

"Damn straight!" I repeat grabbing my coat.

"Umm, I said call. Where are you going?"

"Outside for a little privacy."

"Oh sure. Take my only source of entertainment away. I was just about to pop me some popcorn too," he mocks.

"Hardy har har." I give him a playful shove before heading to the door.

"Bella," he calls out. "I'm probably going to hit the sack in a couple of minutes. The guest room is on the left. Everything you need should be there."

"Okay."

"Not to sound like your mother, but don't stay out too long. You need sleep. Remember? We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."

"I won't."

"We're going to figure this out," he says with conviction. "I promise."

It's funny, I've heard those words a lot recently, but this is the first time I don't feel the heaviness of uncertainty when they are said. "I finally believe that," I say with a smile before walking out the door.

Sitting on the porch, I inhale the smell of pine and fresh air. The wind has picked up; the clouds hiding the stars and the moon leaving the forest shrouded in darkness. I wonder if we're in for a storm. It's still a little early in the season, but the temperature feels like it is dipping low enough to produce snow if the clouds decide to open up.

Looking at my phone, I mentally rehearse what I want to say. I need to play this smart. At this point, I think confronting him directly about the photo is not to my benefit. I want to see what he does if given a little bit of rope. His answers will make sense or he'll hang himself. Either way, I'll have the upper hand. Taking a breath, I hit the number in the text.

"Hello?" Edward's anxious voice answers.

"Hi."

"Bella," he sighs in relief. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"What did Sam do?" The hostility drips from his rushed words.

"Why do you think that Sam did anything?"

"I highly doubt it's a coincidence that you left after having your little chat with him."

"I just needed to get away. I felt suffocated," I answer, dancing around the truth.

"I don't buy it. It's not like you to make a rash decision."

"It wasn't rash. I believe that I'm free to come and go as I please," I growl. I get that he's worried, but he hasn't earn the right to question me on any of my choices.

"But—"

"Edward, I didn't call to get a lecture. Either let it go or hang up because I don't want to argue about it."

"Just promise me you're being careful."

"I am. No need to worry."

"I told you before, that's impossible," he says quietly. "Besides, I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Sam. There is something off in his eyes. You can't trust him."

"I can take care of myself."

"And yet you ran off."

"Edward," I warn. "Why did you want me to call?"

"To hear your voice," he whispers. "I needed to hear for myself that you're okay."

"I don't know what to say," I say sadly.

"Anything or nothing. It doesn't matter," he sighs, his own sadness drifting through the phone.

We are quiet for a few seconds; the only sound is our synchronized breaths. "You know what I hated the most about traveling?" he asks breaking the silence.

"What?" I lean carefully against a post of the railing, hoping that it holds my body weight. I have a feeling this conversation is going to take longer than I expected.

"The differences in the night sky."

"Why?"

"You know the cliché that no matter where you go, you can look up and know the people you love are looking at the same sky."

"Yeah," I whisper, trying, as in most of our recent conversations, to connect his scattered thoughts.

"Well, that not's necessarily true, especially in the southern hemisphere."

"As any first year astronomy student will tell you," I retort, my patience worn long ago.

"I know it's trite and stupid, but it's funny the things you hold onto when everything else is falling apart," he continues, ignoring my snarky remark. "I was in Australia one day when it hit me that you weren't looking at the same sky. It was like a blow. I'd never felt as alone as I did in that moment."

My heart swells at his sentimental words, a million thoughts flashing through my head. However, instead of allowing myself to get distracted, I focus instead on the question that will get me more information. "How long were you in Australia?"

"About a month. I was finalizing a business transaction that went sideways."

"What made it go sideways?"

"Outside forces." His words are chopped and tense.

"Like Riley Biers?" I ask, throwing out a hook.

The phone is silent for several seconds before he answers. "No. Different outside forces."

"But you've gone against him in business dealings before."

"Yes, a few times."

"Tell me more about him," I request, digging for evidence.

Edward breathes out a long sigh. "What do you want to know?"

"How often did you have contact with him?" I can hear myself emotionally distancing from the questions, almost envisioning Edward in a witness chair.

"Not often," he answers slowly.

"What does that mean? Twice a year? Once a month? What?" Unlike in an actual courtroom, I'm asking more open-ended questions, but it's purposeful and necessary. I want to see where he takes the leeway.

"Where is this coming from?"

"I'm just curious. Did you see him at meetings or alone?"

"We probably ran into each other every couple of months, sometimes for meetings, sometimes alone. None of our interactions were friendly. I admit that I liked being able to beat him out on business transactions. He's such a righteous asshole, so knocking him down a few pegs felt good."

"Ever meet on a pier?" I blurt out, my prosecutor brain automatically leading me down the road of detailed questions.

The line is silent for a bit. "That's specific," he says quietly. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm just trying to figure everything out. I don't fully understand your relationship with him."

"I don't _have_ a relationship with him," he barks.

"But there's more than what you've told me, right?"

The line falls silent again before he answers. "Yes," he says roughly.

"And what does 'yes' exactly mean, Edward? Meeting for drinks, bowling, a good game of paintball?" I ask sarcastically, the cool air a sudden and welcome contrast to the heat of my skin.

"Don't be ridiculous. High stakes business is like chess, Bella. It's all about tactics and analyzing the big picture. Biers is scum, but I interacted with him as a part of a larger strategy. Did I like it? No, but that's the game." The volume of his words vibrates the speaker leaving nothing but his ragged breaths when the words run out.

There's merit to his explanation, but he hasn't revealed his end game. Is it really for some greater good or something more insidious? "Are you playing now?"

"Of course not! You never were nor will ever be a _game_ to me, Bella."

"Do you know what happened to my dad?"

"What?" he asks with a rising octave. "No! I didn't even know about him until you told me. Why would you ask me that?"

"Just trying to put the pieces together," I say blatantly.

"Bella…" he trails off, "I can only assume that Sam said something to you to place these seeds of doubt in your head. But I swear to you, I know nothing about your dad, and if I did, I would have told you."

"I want to believe that," I admit, my non-emotional façade fading away with his emotional conviction.

"What can I do?"

"Give me time."

"Okay," Edward says resigned.

"I should go. It's been a long day." Although I'm using it as an excuse, the statement is no less true.

"Yeah, it's late. You should get some sleep," he says, the emotion still thick in his voice. "Make sure to keep your door locked, and don't open it for anyone."

"Don't worry. I'm safe."

"Just stay that way. I love you."

"Good night," I whisper back before hanging up.

The words Edward probably wants to hear in return almost slip from my lips out of habit. I can't seem to keep my emotions in check with him no matter how much distance is between us. Although it's insanely frustrating to have Edward revealing things so slowly, his explanations remain consistent. I can only hope that whatever Ben saw in that picture sheds some more light on this situation. The quicker I know, the quicker I can deal with Edward.

Walking back into the living room, I grab my things still lying in a pile by the door and make my way to the back of the cabin. After cleaning up in the bathroom, I open a squeaky door to a tiny bedroom with just enough room for a twin bed and a small dresser. My body almost sags in relief at the sight of the bed. It looks incredibly inviting, covered in a heavy homemade quilt and topped with fluffy pillows. Peeling out of my clothes and slipping into pajamas, I snuggle under the covers, my tired body sinking into the mattress. Tonight, sleep will come quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Bella has a plan.


	11. Chapter 10: Do What You Have To Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LostInPA, awesome beta and support! :)
> 
> Important: This chapter contains descriptions of terminal illness and violence.

Chapter 10: Do What You Have To Do

_"The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be."_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

_As soon as the door opens, a familiar but nasty smell invades my nose. The room is dark, creating shadows that hide the horrible machines hissing in the background. I despise it. The sounds, the sight, the smells, I hate it all. I feel my dad behind me, his hands guiding my shoulders as we move forward. The nurse gives me a sympathetic look as she walks out the door. Everybody knows that my mom is dying, and nobody knows what to say anymore. The principle even makes the school counselor check on me every morning. It feels like I'm the sick one._

_"Bella," my mom whispers._

_The hospital bed is huge compared to her tiny body. Her skin looks strange, pale with a hint of grey. Her once bright eyes are dull and watery surrounded by dark circles. As I approach, her fragile hand reaches out. I'm afraid to touch her._

_"Hi, Mom," I chirp cheerfully, pasting a fake smile on my face. My dad squeezes my shoulders; he knows I'm trying my best to be brave._

_"Come here." Her hand reaches out further, the simple act difficult in her weakened state._

_"I'm here," I whisper, grabbing her hand and sitting in the chair next to the bed. I'm afraid that I will break her if I hold it too tightly._

_"My beautiful daughter." She glances sadly towards my dad._

_"I love you, Mom." I can feel the tears, but I force them back trying to be strong._

_"I have a confession," she says giving me a small and painful smile. "I was always jealous of you and your father."_

_"Why?"_

_"You understand each other in a way that's hard to describe. Your souls speak the same magical and adventurous language. It was difficult for someone as practical as me to comprehend."_

_"I'm sorry." Her admission saddens me. I never meant for her to feel left out, even though I know that Dad and I tend to get lost in our own world._

_"Oh no, no, don't be sorry. I'm so glad that you have each other," she sighs glancing towards Dad again. "I never want you to lose that. You're going to need some magic."_

_"Okay," I whisper, but not understanding what she means._

_"There's so much I want to say, to teach you… I wish I could watch you grow." Tears fall from her cloudy eyes. It makes her voice sound strange._

_"I know." I don't know what else to say. Dad says our wishes won't change that she's dying, and my grief will only make her sadder._

_"Bella, every time I look at you, I'm amazed by the strength I see radiating from within you. It makes me proud to be your mom."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yes. I see it now, and it tells me that you will survive no matter what comes your way. You are going to grow into an amazing leader. I just wish I could be there to see it."_

_"Mom." I lean my head against our hands, losing the battle against my tears. "I don't want you to go." I don't feel brave or strong anymore._

_"Oh, Sweetie, I don't want to leave either, but you will carry on. You and your dad will help each other, and I know that one day you will find magic again."_

_"I love you," I say laying my head on her chest, her hand gently stroking my hair._

_"I love you too, so much. Always choose happiness, Isabella, that is a choice we all have."_

_"I will. I promise."_

_"Come on. Your mom needs her rest," Dad says from behind me._

_Standing up, I lean over for a hug, her chapped lips lingering on my forehead. Somehow, I know that this is the end. It is as if I can feel death himself lingering, waiting for me to leave so that he can take her._

_The unknown future is frightening, almost overwhelming, until Dad takes my hand. "Together, kid. Always together."_

_Suddenly, things become hazy and distorted, quickly extinguishing the warmth of his words._

_The hallway feels like it's closing in around us. The light dimming the further we walk, and yet the exit doesn't seem any closer. I tighten the hold on my dad's hand, but it starts to fade away, like wisps of fog in the breeze. Turning, I realize I am alone. Panic erupts, as I try to grasp what's happening._

_"Did you lose something, Ms. Swan?" I swing around to the piercing eyes of Riley. "Maybe I can help you find it." His fingers graze my arm._

_"No, I'm fine," I say walking backwards._

_"Come on, Bella. Let's get out of here," Sam says out of nowhere, grasping my elbow, and glaring at Riley._

_Riley smirks, waving his arm to go ahead. "Far be it from me to keep you." He turns to walk away, glancing back, a sinister laugh following his shadow._

_"See, I told you that I was here for you," Sam whispers into my ear, his touch cold on my arm._

_The hallway seems even darker. Disoriented, I wonder where Dad went. Is he coming back? Walking forward, Sam drags me along, but I feel like I'm moving in the wrong direction. "Are you taking me to my dad?" I ask, my feet stumbling when he walks faster._

_"Of course, trust me."_

_"You can't trust him, Bella." Edward's voice rings out. His warm fingers slip around my other wrist, pulling me in the opposite direction of Sam. "Stay with me."_

_I turn towards him. His eyes radiating love as they plead with mine. "I don't know if I can," I tell him honestly._

_"You know the truth," Mom says appearing in front of me. She looks healthy and young._

_"Trust your instincts, kid. Don't let anyone else tell you what to believe." My dad materializes beside her, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder._

_"You'll never win," Riley says from behind Sam. Edward's hand tightens around my wrist, his deadly eyes narrowed on the new player._

_"The hell she won't," Dad growls._

_Edward yanks me out of Sam's grasp, wrapping me tightly in his arms until my back is snug against his chest. I feel his head brush against mine as he leans down, his lips skimming my ear. "We'll get them. We'll get them all. I promise."_

_Everyone's faces whirl around me, their voices becoming garbled and unclear. Although I'm horribly confused, a paradoxical calm envelopes me within the protection of Edward's arms. "Together," he whispers. "Always together."_

* * *

The memory-turned-dream chases me awake, confusing me long enough to forget where I am. Peeking my head out of the heavy quilt, my hazy mind recognizes the wood walls of Ben's cabin.

Shaking off the lingering confusion of the dream, I glance at my phone surprised to see that it's already past ten. The chilly room assaults my exposed skin, the closed door preventing any heat of the fire from drifting in. Although the cabin is equipped with a heating system, the ancient metal vent on the floor sounds like it's on its last leg, the lukewarm air barely moving through it.

As toasty as the bed is, I know I should get up. There is a lot to do, and Ben is probably waiting. Grabbing my bag, I move into the bathroom quickly, trying to outrun the cold. Turning on the shower, I'm pleasantly surprised that it warms up quickly; apparently, the water heater is one thing that works well. Stepping into the small space, I indulge in the steamy warmth for a couple of minutes before hurrying through the rest of my routine.

I'm glad that in my haste to leave, I had the forethought to bring warm clothes. The drafty air certainly doesn't feel as though the temperature is any warmer than it was last night. Pulling on thick socks, jeans, and a warm sweater, I feel surprisingly refreshed. The several hours of solid sleep really helped to rejuvenate me.

"Look who finally decided to join the land of the living," Ben quips as soon as I step out of the hallway.

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who told me to get some sleep, so suck it," I say childishly, sticking out my tongue for good measure.

Making my way to the kitchen, I grab a mug and fill it with coffee before walking over to him. He's sitting in front of his computer eating breakfast, papers scattered all around him. Given the state of his usually organized desk, it looks like he's been hitting it hard.

"What do you have in there?" I ask, leaning over his shoulder to peer in the bowl.

"Coco Puffs, the breakfast of champions. Want some?"

"Ugh, no. I'll stick with coffee thank you very much. You've certainly been busy."

"Unlike someone who shall remain nameless, I've been up for hours." He grins, twisting around to poke my side, before becoming serious again. "I've been going through your dad's cases. I'm impressed, he was quite the detective."

I smile proudly at the compliment. "That he was." Glancing at the screen, I recognize the emblem of the Seattle PD. Ben's obviously been up to his hacking tricks again. "Find anything interesting?"

He spins in his chair, twirling a spoon around his fingers. "Yeah, the last case he was working on."

Dragging another chair over, I sit next to him looking closer at the screen. "What was it?"

"A murder case," he mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. "Actually, two."

"Double homicide?"

"No, he thought he was on the trail of a budding," he picks up his spoon and holds it up with a sarcastic smirk, " _serial_ killer."

Rolling my eyes at the unimaginative pun, I focus on the screen. "He didn't mention anything about a major case."

"Yeah, well he was the only one that saw a connection between the two. According to e-mails from his supervisor, he was getting pressure to let it go."

"That doesn't make sense. He was well respected, and I doubt he would make that kind of claim without having the evidence to back it up."

"Given his other work, I don't doubt that, but these cases were pretty random. At first glance, I could see why people would scoff."

"Tell me about them." I scoot closer, scanning the scribbles and pictures Ben drew on scratch paper, probably his way of organizing his thoughts as he sifted through the files.

"Two women, Samantha Whitely and Katie Marshall." Free of his spoon, Ben's fidgety fingers pick up a pen.

"What's the connection?"

"Not much besides being stabbed and brunette." Ben moves the pen to his mouth and grabs one of his papers. "Samantha was a…lady of the night as they say. She had a lengthy criminal record for drugs, theft, and assault. Katie on the other hand was a well-respected college professor with no criminal record. The murders took place several months apart. Samantha was the first victim. Apparently, she had no family or friends that missed her because no one reported her disappearance. The killer left her behind a dumpster. According the autopsy, she'd been dead a few of days by the time someone discovered her." Setting the paper back down, he takes the pen and taps it lightly against the desk. "Which kind of makes you wonder what that ally smelled liked if no one noticed the stink," Ben remarks sarcastically.

"No kidding," I scoff. Clearly, the murder took place in a part of town where things tend to go unreported. "And Katie?"

"She was reported missing right away, but found several weeks later by a hiker on an isolated trail. Her autopsy indicated she died shortly after her disappearance and was dumped right away."

"He didn't keep her hostage," I conclude.

"Nope, whatever he did, he did quickly."

"Well, you're right, they certainly don't appear similar."

"Not at all. The first is a high-risk victim and a high-risk MO with little precaution. The complete opposite of the second, which is a low-risk victim and an apparent low-risk MO. Switching those two variables quickly, requires a steep learning curb."

"Intelligence," I surmise making my own mental notes.

"Right, but that would also contradict the carelessness of the first victim."

"Unless there are others that haven't been discovered. Maybe we don't have the complete picture of this person's evolution."

"Maybe, but without a common denominator to narrow our search we're kind of screwed. Besides your dad already tried that and didn't come up with anything," Ben points out.

"Crap," I hiss. "Okay, even though it's rare, maybe he did escalate quickly."

"It's possible, but we still need a connection."

"How about the wound pattern or knife, anything there?"

"Umm, possibly." Ben spins back around to pull up the crime scene photos, putting each case on a separate monitor for an easier comparison. "If we go with the escalation theory, the wound pattern might make sense."

"You don't sound convinced."

"The knives were different, so without something else, all we have is a thin assumption that you could technically make between any two cases."

"Understood." I realize we have nothing solid, but I trust Ben's postulations over most people's conclusions any day. "Now, what's the thin assumption?"

"See here," Ben says pointing to the pale body of the first victim. "The depths of the stab wounds differ. It's random, almost savage. The guy just went for it."

"He went crazy stabbing her," I murmur, looking at the jagged slices all over her chest and stomach.

"It might not have been intended. Maybe something went wrong. He had to act quick and—"

"He liked it too much to stop," I say completing Ben's thought.

"Exactly. The second, however, is more precise, he went for vital areas. The first would have been a bloody mess. The second was more contained."

"He liked the kill, but not the mess."

" _If_ we are talking about the same guy, which at this point is a really big if."

"And _if_ my dad wasn't murdered, I'd be more leery, but he obviously stumbled onto something big," I argue.

"Hey, I'm not disagreeing, but we can't just chase shadows either."

"Okay, okay." I sigh knowing that Ben is right. Ultimately, we need proof. "Let's stick to the basics. My dad had a great instinct, so something caught his eye. How did he come across the cases in the first place?"

"Chance. They were assigned randomly. In fact, the second case was only given to him after another detective was held over in court and couldn't go to the crime scene."

"What did he see then?"

"It's not clear. In the write-up of the second case, he mentions a similarity to the other investigation, but nothing to identify what it was."

"That's odd." A good detective knows you can't make a statement like that in an official record without specifying the evidence. My dad would not make that type of mistake.

"Yeah, odd," Ben breathes, twirling his pen again. "What I'm about to say goes against the 'not chasing shadows declaration', but fuck it. I think someone altered his notes."

"Considering things keep disappearing in this unit, I'm not surprised." The tampering of documents on a case that he was getting pressure to drop is surely not a coincidence.

"Well, here's another juicy layer for you to chew on. Whoever messed with them did a really crappy job."

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"His other notes had a distinct style. They were succinct and understandable. These," he says pulling up another document, "are clumsy. There are holes and missing words."

"Why go to all the trouble then?"

"Either the person was rushed or they weren't worried about someone looking at them closely," Ben suggests.

"Because someone had the power to keep it quiet, someone like Riley Biers. He could easily have a person working for him on the inside."

"But this doesn't seem like his brand of crime," Ben counters, glancing back at me.

"It's not," I begrudgingly agree. "He'll kill people to get ahead or if they cross him. It is about his power, not for the love of killing, which seems to be the case here. _But_ , my dad still had that symbol in his journal. So, what are we missing?"

"My guess? He's playing cleanup."

Considering his theory, I mentally flip through what I remember about Riley's personal life. "All of his relationships are for secondary gain. I don't remember reading about anyone he would put himself at risk for."

"Unless it was one of his people. Their bad behavior would have put him at risk."

"That does make the most sense," I agree.

"Still, how do we prove it?" Ben questions almost to himself, scrolling through different files. "Fuck, I wish I had access to your dad's computer. If he suspected foul play at the precinct, my bet is he started keeping things elsewhere." Ben looks over uncertainly. "You didn't by chance keep it did you."

"No, I donated his desktop after investigators copied the hard drive."

"Hmm." Ben looks back at the files. "If they downloaded his hard-drive, I wonder where those files ended up."

"There's no mention of them?"

"Not that I've found, which just solidifies that someone is tampering with shit. Let me see if I can figure out what happened to them."

"What about a tablet?" I ask, realizing that I might have more information than I realize.

"Huh?"

"I have his tablet. I gave it to him so we could Skype, that's all he really used it for. He wasn't the most technologically advanced."

"If it was connected to his desktop, it's possible some files were transferred. Do we need to take a road trip to San Fran?"

"No, I have it with me," I clarify. "Hold on."

Getting up, I go to the bedroom to grab the tablet from the depths of the side pocket in my briefcase. I know it's strange, but I've carried it with me since his death. We Skyped the day before he died, it was the last thing I saw him on. Somehow, even though I never turn it on, carrying it makes me feel closer to him. Walking back, I lift up my prize.

"I'll be damned, Justice. Let's see what secrets it holds," Ben cheers with a wide smile.

Flipping it around, I hit the power button with lackluster results. "Damn."

"What's wrong?"

"The battery's probably dead, and I don't have the charger."

"Ah, that's not a problem." Ben moves to his wire shelves and rummages through a box on the bottom. "Here, this should work." He pulls out a cord and hands it to me. Sure enough, it slides easily into the power outlet.

Plugging it into the surge protector by the desk, I hold my breath and switch it on hoping, however improbable, that it holds the answers to our long list of questions. Ben reaches out and takes it, plugging the tablet into his computer monitor.

"Do you know his password?" He asks when the first screen comes to life.

"Bella42," I respond immediately. "It was his password for everything."

Ben glances back, "Bella I get. Is there a story behind the number?"

"Jackie Robinson's baseball jersey." I wistfully smile, thinking about when I asked the same question. The Mariners were always his team, but he thought Jackie was _the_ ultimate player.

"You weren't kidding about your dad not being technologically minded," Ben utters looking at the screen as it comes to life. It has no personalization with very few programs and apps.

"He really hated the thing, but since he liked seeing me when we talked, he tolerated using it. I don't think he touched it for anything else."

"Looks like your dad might have been savvier than you thought." Ben points to the screen at an unnamed folder filled with a long list of unnamed documents. Clicking open the first document, the Seattle PD emblem shows up. It's a screen shot of his notes from Katie's case. "Jackpot!"

"Holy shit!" I'm shocked that something is actually on it. "He definitely suspected someone in the department if he did this. You know, Sam said that Internal Affairs was investigating my dad and several other people. Who's to say the others aren't viable suspects."

Ben continues to scroll through the list of documents. Since they are all unnamed, it will take some time to sort through everything that's here. "It's a theory worth checking out," he agrees, minimizing the list of documents to pull up another screen. "It's going to take me a bit to get in. I haven't hacked that database before."

"How long will it take you?"

Ben turns to face me again, "No more than a day, but I think we need to focus on your dad's files first. That should narrow down where we need to look when we get in."

"That makes sense."

"Oh, by the way, I sent that photograph off to be analyzed," he mentions off-handedly. "I'm hoping that it provides us with some new leads too."

"The one of Edward and Riley." I clarify, catching up with his train of thought.

He nods his head. "I have a friend who does forensic photography. He has better equipment than I have here to authentic it."

"You think it's been tampered with?" The thought eases my mind more than I expected, a part of me desperate to know whether Edward lied about his contact with Riley. "How quickly will we know?"

"Tomorrow at the latest."

"So, if it is fake, why would my dad have it?" I wonder aloud.

"We need to see what the analysis says before we can answer that. Hell, we don't even know if he put it there. Which is why I'm also having it tested for prints and any other specific markers that will tell us its origin."

Absorbing this morning's conversation, I look around at all the papers with a satisfied grin. I'm finally within reach of untangling this mess. "Thank you," I say leaning over too rest my head against Ben's shoulder appreciatively. "I wouldn't have any of this without you."

"That's why I'm here." He playfully ruffles my hair before I sit back up. "And don't think I've forgotten about checking up on Sam's misinformation-giving ass either. He's on my list too."

"And Edward," I add.

"And Edward," Ben affirms. "I'll start on those background checks when I get back." The words tumble from his lips quickly, his eyes downcast.

"Get back?" I ask confused.

"I got a call this morning. I need to leave for a couple of days to deal with a case," Ben says lowly, still struggling to look at me.

"Oh," I sigh, losing the momentum I felt earlier. "When do you leave?"

"In a couple of hours. I really don't want to do this, but I'm hoping to wrap this other thing up so I can devote all of my time to you."

"You don't need to explain it to me, I know you're busy. I basically bombarded your life by coming here."

"Not at all." Ben finally looks up, gracing me with a smile. "I'm glad you called. If this wasn't critical, I would—"

"Like I said, I completely understand. You have to go and in the meantime, I'll get a head start on these documents," I respond brightly, trying to ease the guilt I see in his eyes.

"Smart girl. You're welcome to use anything you need. Just make yourself at home. And I'll be in touch, especially if I hear anything back on the picture." Ben glances at his phone. "I've still got a little bit of time, why don't you tell me more about this butterfly thing. The whole concept fascinates me."

"Better yet, let me show you." Walking quickly into the bedroom, I grab the sketch I did before I left. "Here it is," I say taking it back to Ben. "Or at least my best representation of it. I don't think I got the symbol quite right, but Sam said that it meant master."

"And according to him, Riley has a thing for butterflies, right?" Ben questions, looking closely at the sketch.

"Yes, I guess he uses several different types, although the investigation didn't focus too much on them. Sam just thought it was a 'girly' obsession."

"The butterfly is actually a powerful symbol in many cultures. In general, it represents re-birth and transformation. The Greek, Irish, Russian, and Mexican cultures believe they represent the soul, although each has a bit of a different interpretation for how. Chinese culture on the other hand, connects them to a long life and in Japan they represent a happy marriage or love," Ben rattles off quickly, a spark in his eyes. He may call me a justice junkie, but he is clearly a knowledge junkie.

"Thank you, Mr. Wikipedia that was very helpful," I smirk. "But where does that leave us?"

"If we hedge bets, I would say he likes it because of the soul or transformation meanings. We just need to narrow down whether the symbol means that he sees himself a master of all souls or that he's transforming into one." Ben doodles swirling butterflies on his paper, his mind working through the information.

"Maybe my dad found something. There had to be some reason he drew it in his journal."

"Let's hope we find something in that file. I'm thinking I might need to take a peek at Sam's files too and see what they have to say."

"Isn't it a whole new level of risky to hack into the FBI's computers?"

"Yup!" Ben cracks his knuckles. "I told you, I love a challenge. They won't even know I was there," he declares.

"You scare me sometimes."

Ben laughs and checks his phone once again, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Shit. I have to go. Things are starting earlier than I thought. You good?" he ask quickly, getting up to grab his coat and a bag that is on the table.

"I'm good. Be safe!" I shout as he flies towards the door.

He turns to throw me a mischievous grin. "Of course. Lock the door behind me!" he yells slamming the door shut behind him.

Walking slowly towards the door, I do as requested before sitting on the sofa next to the fire. In the sudden stillness, I find myself categorizing the various sounds of the cabin. Rationalizing that I should identify them now before the dark descends making everything seem more threatening. It's only been a few minutes, but I already feel incredibly isolated. I would never begrudge Ben being able to do his job, but being out here alone is not what I signed up for when I called. Getting up to refill my coffee, I decide to start digging into those documents. The more I can do before Ben returns the better, besides the distraction will be good.

Several hours later, I lean back to stretch my back and crack my neck, feeling the fatigue of sitting in front of the computer for so long. The first several documents were screen shots from Samantha's and Katie's casefiles, the documentation detailed and succinct. Once we compare them to what is in Seattle's database now, I suspect we will have solid proof that someone is tampering with evidence. I'm hoping that Ben can also prove the databased was changed after my dad's death, which will go a long way in being able to prove his innocence.

Focusing back on the task, I open the next one surprised to see a word document. It's a long list of dates, times, and topics of phone conversations. Apparently, my dad was sharing his suspicions with someone else. Glancing through the topics, I would guess that he was helping to build a case. Unfortunately, the document doesn't give any clue as to who they were or where they worked. The last documented conversation occurred about a week before his death and seemed to follow the schedule of the others. On the bottom of last page is an address, next to the name Riley Biers with several questions marks.

"What did you find, Dad?" I mumble writing the address down quickly.

Minimizing the document, I pull up Google Maps wanting to see exactly where it is located. Zooming in closer, my heart drops as the picture clears. I recognize the neighborhood immediately. I stared at the same view for hours several months ago. Disturbingly, the address is only a couple blocks away from where he was murdered. Picking up my phone, I immediately call Ben, frustrated, but not surprised when it goes straight to voicemail.

"Damn it!" We need to check out that address. Besides the drawing, this is the first solid lead I've found that could connect Riley to his death.

Going back to the computer, I put the address into Google, seeing if anything comes up about the building itself. According to the screen, it's just a residence and not associated with any businesses. Pulling up maps again, I hit street view. The brick building is rundown and right in the middle of an industrial neighborhood. There are no signs that I can see, just a single door covered by meshed screen with an apartment buzzer to the right of it. The only business close by is a twenty-four hour liquor store on the corner. Nothing I can find tells me anything about what it is, who owns it, or if anyone lives there.

Glancing blurry-eyed at the screen, I sit and contemplate my next move. I really want to see the place in-person, yet my logical side scoffs at the stupidity of the thought. Without more to go on, I would be walking in blind. Picking up my phone, I start to call Ben again, but quickly throw it down realizing that I'm being selfish. The last thing I want to do is to put him at risk by calling at the wrong moment.

I consider calling Emmett or Rose, but I don't want to put them in a bad position either. I know they want to help, but both of their offices are involved. Having proof that someone is tampering with things within the Seattle PD makes me leery to trust other agencies right now. I can't ask them to risk their careers by lying about helping me investigate the address.

Scrolling through my phone, my fingers linger over Edward's number. It's crazy that after all this time my first instinct is still to call him when things are falling apart. However, in this instance, I don't need to call to know what he would think. Edward was always overly protective, sometimes to a fault. He would blatantly tell me it's crazy and not worth the risk.

My contemplative trance is unexpectedly broken when I notice Alice's name lighting up the phone. It's amazing how she always seems to know when I need someone. Although, I can't share what I've learned, I find myself eager to hear a friendly voice.

"Hey."

"I've got to say I'm a little hurt, missy. I'm supposed to be the Thelma to your Louise. How in the hell can I be a partner in crime when you run off without even calling me?" Her admonishing words rush out with barely a breath between them.

"As much fun as that would be, this was one adventure I couldn't drag you into, Al."

She lets out a long sigh. "I know. I just wish there was more that I could do to help."

"And the fact that you're willing is exactly why I love you, but, I can't let you get involved. I'm glad that you called though."

"I am too, although, I still want to strangle you," she jokes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm surviving, and I think I'm finally getting some answers."

"Good, that's good." The phone is silent for a bit. "What about Edward?"

"What about him?"

"What's going between the two of you? Rose told me that he spent the night at your place." Her suggestive tone tells me that she's reading a lot into what happened.

"It wasn't like that," I grumble.

"Then what was it like?"

"We talked. And not about half the things we should have…he said he loves me," I admit quietly.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I don't know. I'm still so angry, but on the other hand, I'm starting to recognize that he's really trying to prove himself. I just don't know if I can trust him yet."

"That's understandable, but…" she trails off.

"But?" I ask pushing her to complete her thought.

"Edward has always looked at you in way that's hard to describe. It never made sense to me how that could go away so suddenly. Maybe the answer is that it didn't."

"Hmm," I hum. Visions of soulful green eyes invade my consciousness.

"Now, don't get me wrong, you're my girl so if you decide to hate him forever, I'm with you. I'm just saying that it might not be as clear cut as you think."

"How do I start trusting him again?"

"I don't think there's an easy answer to that, but how can you even start without knowing the whole story?"

"I would love to know the whole story, but he sensors everything."

"Then don't let him get away with it. If he wants you to talk to him and give him a chance, put your foot down. He can't get any closer to you until he tells you everything."

"Uh huh," I mumble.

"Uh huh, nothing. Truth?"

"Always."

"I think a part of you likes the fact that he's holding things back."

"I don't—"

"Just listen. You're so afraid of what you might hear that you don't push the issue. It's easier to just be pissed at him."

Her words hit hard, the phone once again silent as she lets me process what she said. "Maybe you're right," I admit quietly. "And if things are going to change, I can't let his excuses slide anymore."

"No you can't."

"What would I do without you, Al?"

"Probably flounder through life, lost and incredibly bored," she giggles.

I laugh along with her. "Sadly, you are probably correct. Thank you for always telling me what I need to hear no matter how hard I try to ignore it."

"Aww, I love you too…hold on a sec." I can tell she pulled the phone away from her mouth, the speaker crackling around muffled voices.

"Alice?"

"Hey, Bella, Jasper needs to talk to you, he says it's important."

"Okay, put him on."

"Here he is, oh and don't forget if you need a partner in crime—"

"You'll be the first one I call."

"Better be! Love you," she says before transferring the phone over.

"Bella, how are you doing?" Jasper's concerned voice asks right away.

"I'm okay. What's going on? Do you have news about Diego?"

"Yeah, it was definitely the CIA that took over. They're holding him under the Patriot Act, and from what I can tell there's no trial date set for arraignment."

"They're using the indefinite detention provision," I infer.

"It would appear so."

"Shit. This just complicates everything. How about Riley's case? Is it still moving forward?"

"Don't shoot the messenger," Jasper says hesitantly. "But that's what I needed to talk to you about."

"What?"

"The good news is that Garrett is impressed with what you've done so far. It set a good foundation to keep moving forward. He's working with Sam on executing the warrants, and putting the missing pieces that you pointed out together."

"And the bad news?"

"Garrett is adding charges related to your dad."

"His murder?" I ask uneasily.

"No. Bribing him to tamper with evidence."

" _What_?" I scream jumping up. "He can't do that! That hasn't been proven yet."

"I know, but he's convinced. Sam brought him some damning evidence. Garrett's decided to bring those charges first, and then add the others later. He's worried if they take too long to make a move, Riley will leave the country."

"How long?" I ask, numbly. Whatever their timetable is, Ben and I have to beat it.

"Early next week."

"Then I only have couple of days," I mumble quietly.

"What?" Jasper asks.

"Nothing. Thanks for the update."

"What do you want me to do, Bella?"

"Just keep me in the loop. Oh and could you send me the list of charges? I want to know exactly what I am up against."

"Of course, I'll e-mail them now. What are you going to do? I know you won't sit back and let them do this to Charlie. What's your plan?" Jasper asks blatantly. He knows me well.

"I have some ideas," I say hesitantly, thinking about the address.

"Should I be worried?"

"No, but I might need you to run interference if things take longer than I expect."

"Just let me know what you need."

"Thanks, Jasper. I don't know what I would do without you or Alice. I'm lucky to call you my friends."

"You mean your family," he corrects.

"Family," I confirm. "Listen, I've got to go."

"You'd better take care of yourself and keep in touch so we know that you are okay."

"I will."

Hanging up, I sit back down and pick up the paper with the address. Jasper's news changes things. If I want to prevent them from ruining my dad I need to act fast, which makes waiting for Ben's job to end extremely problematic.

Deciding that enough time has passed, I log into my e-mail account. Nothing. Tapping my fingers across the desk, I eagerly await the list. Glancing down through my in-box an e-mail entitled "Hide and Seek" catches my attention, especially since I don't recognize the Hotmail account. Clicking on it, I sit back in the chair stunned by the words taunting me from the screen.

_"Come out, come out where ever you are!_

_You can't hide forever, Ms. Swan. You and I still need to have a chat, and in case you are thinking about ignoring my request, it would be wise to remember that you are not the only one with something to lose. Is it worth it?"_

Underneath is an attachment. Once it loads, I'm horrified to see dozen of images of my friends on the screen. Emmett, Rose, Jasper, and Alice all engaged in various activities, oblivious to the fact that they were under surveillance. Any hesitation I had about not waiting for Ben disappears as I scroll through the images.

_"You don't make rash decisions."_ Edward's voice cuts through my mental chatter mocking me.

_"You have a core of strength radiating through you."_ My mom's voice drifts in, refuting my apprehension.

"I have to do this," I confirm shutting down the voices of doubt. I know the plan forming in my head isn't the best idea, but at this point, I honestly don't care. I have to protect my friends. I can't let them share the same fate as my father.

_"Together, kid."_ My Dad's voice echoes, reminding me that I can overcome anything.

"Together," I whisper. I owe him this. I need to finish what he started, and find answers before it's too late.

Deciding to get the list from Jasper later, I log out of my e-mail to search for flights. Pulling up Expedia, I scroll for any flights going to Seattle in the next few hours out of Sacramento. Watching as my options load, I pause realizing that I need to be smarter about this. An airline ticket is like a flashing arrow to my whereabouts.

Deleting the destination, I type in New York instead. Anyone who has researched me will know that I graduated from Columbia Law School. Although I decided that New York wasn't where I wanted to settle, I still love to visit a couple of times a year. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch for me to go there now. Let these assholes track me there instead.

After booking a redeye flight from Sacramento to New York, I turn off the computer. Taking a piece of paper, I scrawl the address and an explanation for Ben, asking him to follow me as soon as he can. I know he will be livid, but I don't have the luxury of waiting anymore.

Grabbing the tablet, I run into the bedroom and grab my bags before heading to the kitchen to rummage for things to take on my journey. Finding a to-go mug, I decide to make an extra strong pot coffee; I'm going to need the caffeine. While it brews, I throw several granola bars, apples, and banana into a bag. I have a fourteen-hour drive ahead of me, and not a lot of time to stop for breaks.

The narrow road doesn't seem as intimidating as it did in the dark, allowing me to take the turns quicker than last night. I keep glancing in the rearview mirror, paranoid that the guy who sent the e-mail is not far behind. However, the mirror reflects nothing but trees and dirt until I turn onto the main road. Reaching over to the passenger seat, I place my hand on my overnight bag, feeling for the solid shape of the gun. Touching the extra security allows me to swallow my fear and ease my nerves.

"I'm just going to check it out," I rationalize. "Then we will be able to move faster once Ben arrives. Nothing to worry about."

Heading east, the sun disappears as the dark clouds roll in, casting the forest in a dreary light. Turning on some music, I try to drown out the voice telling me that it is an omen for the journey to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it an omen? Turn in next week. :)


	12. Chapter 11: Uninvited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't do this without LostInPA! She is an amazing sounding board and beta. :) A huge thanks to TDS88 for continuing to help me in the midst of a busy schedule and of course Beautifulnightmarex for keeping me on track.
> 
> Now on with the show.

Chapter 11: Uninvited

_"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory."_

_Unknown_

* * *

_"Dad?" I yell, opening the door with a shaky hand. I didn't realize how nerve-wracking this would be._

_"Shouldn't I be the edgy one?" Edward takes my hand, rubbing it gently before lifting it to his lips._

_"Aren't you?" I whisper, stepping into the entryway, taking off my jacket, and hanging it on the rack next to the door._

_"Not even a little bit. I'm good with parents," he boasts with a crooked grin._

_Glaring at his calm demeanor, I snatch his coat from his hand. "Unlike you, Mr. Popularity, I've never brought a guy home to meet my dad before."_

_His face breaks into a wide grin. "Really?"_

_Embarrassed by my admission, I look down at my shuffling feet. "I've never felt the need… until now."_

_"Hey," Edward whispers, lifting my chin with his finger. "I'm honored. This is the most important relationship I've ever had too. And all joking aside, I intend to impress the hell out of your dad." Leaning down, he presses his mouth against mine. "It's kind of important to my future plans that he approves of me."_

_A flutter of electricity runs through my body at the implication of his words. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him closer, my hand getting lost in his hair. "I love you," I murmur. As soon as the words leave my lips, his crash against mine, this time with a desperate intensity. His hand drifts under the hem of my shirt, his fingers tantalizing my skin._

_"Hmm," he hums. "We need to stop. This is not the first impression I want to make."_

_"Right," I agree, jumping back and straightening my hair._

_"You are trouble, Ms. Swan." Edward runs his hands through his hair with a secret smile. "Are we ready to do this thing?"_

_"Yup." Grabbing Edward's hand, I lead us towards the living room. "Hey, dad, are you here?"_

_"Bella?" He hollers over the sound of baseball commentary. "Is that you?"_

_"Yeah, we're here." Turning the corner, I spot him sitting in his beloved Lazyboy, a bag of chips in his lap and a beer in his hand._

_Smiling, he puts everything down to walk over and pull me into a tight hug. "Hey, kid, how are you doing?"_

_"I'm good. How about you? Taking care of yourself?" I ask skeptically, glancing towards the snacks he left behind._

_"I don't need a hall monitor, Bells. Just a daughter," he admonishes. Clearing his throat, he finally turns his eyes towards Edward. Standing with his hands on his hips, he gives him the once over, his face stern and cold. Apparently, he's decided to make this difficult._

_"Dad, this is Edward. Edward, this is my dad, Charlie," I spit out awkwardly._

_"Edward, huh. You know I'm a cop right?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Do you know I've killed before?"_

_"Dad!" Edward places his hand on my arm before I can say anything else, subtly shaking his head._

_"No, sir," he responds calmly, his posture straight and confident._

_"Yup, I've taken a couple of scumbags out. I also took a special investigation course at Quantico. You know, FBI headquarters. Bella ever tell you that?"_

_"Umm, no," Edward says hesitantly._

_"They offer classes to homicide detectives. They taught me a lot about the dynamics of murder…in fact, I probably learned enough to get away with one if I had to."_

_"Oh my god," I mutter, hoping that the floor swallows me whole._

_"Good to know." Edward stands taller, maintaining his respectfulness, but not cowering to the threats either._

_"What are your intentions? My daughter is worth more than just a roll in the hay."_

_My jaw falls open, stunned. I'm going to kill him. Yanking on his arm, I stretch onto my tiptoes. "Knock it off," I hiss into ear._

_Unexpectedly, his face breaks into a grin, his eyes sparkling. "Can't a guy have a little fun? It's not every day that my daughter brings home a fella," he remarks with a horrible old-fashioned southern accent._

_"You're hilarious," I grumble, shooting daggers at him. "Keep acting this way and I'll never bring home another guy again."_

_"Hold up. Who else would you bring?" Edward asks incredulously._

_"That's not what I meant." Frustration heats my face._

_"What_ did _you mean, Bells?" Dad crosses his arm and moves closer to Edward, who is biting his lip trying not to laugh._

_"You both suck!"_

_Edward steps forward to kiss my temple before reaching his hand out to my dad. "Sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. Bella speaks very highly of you."_

_"Edward," Dad says, grasping his hand and clasping him on the shoulder. "You must be pretty important if my daughter dragged you all the way here."_

_"I hope so, sir. She's pretty important to me."_

_"Good," he smiles, glancing between the two of us. "Tell me, Edward, do you watch baseball?"_

_"Yes, sir. I even played some in high school and college."_

_"Really? What position? And for God sakes, call me Charlie."_

_"Okay…Charlie. I mainly played third base."_

_"Impressive. The game just started. Want to watch?"_

_"I'd love to." Edward follows Charlie to the couch, turning to give me a wink as he hums in agreement with something Dad said about the game._

_Watching the two most important men in my life interact so easily warms my heart more than I expected. I didn't realize until just now how significant this meeting was for me. I don't think I could ever date someone my dad disapproved of, and yet, I couldn't see myself walking away from Edward either._

_"Hey, kid, you joining…what was that? Out, my ass!" He shouts, switching his attention to the screen._

_"I think I'll get dinner started." I'm not sure if either heard me, both yelling about the bad call. "I'll just head that way," I clarify, pointing towards the kitchen._

_"Yeah, sure," dad says, handing Edward a beer from the cooler he has stationed by his chair._

_"Want some help?" Edward asks, turning his attention to me._

_"I think it'd be safer for everyone if you just stay here," I joke._

_"Ha ha." Edward throws me a frown, popping the cap off his beer._

_"Sounds like there's a story behind that dig. Want to share?" Dad asks._

_"Maybe after my second beer," Edward gripes._

_I can tell already that these two are going to be as thick as thieves, which probably spells trouble for me. However, watching them cheer and high-five each other, I also know that I wouldn't have it any other way. For the first time in a long time, this house feels complete._

* * *

I'm drawn back to the present as the breeze from the cracked window chills my face. It helps me to stay alert even though my body wants nothing more than to rest. The road feels endless. It reminds me of the poem "Winter's Road" by Ron Carnell.

_I cannot speak for all that stem_

_'_ _Long road less traveled as their way_

_Nor question the choices made by them_

_In days long past or nights long dim_

_By words they spoke and did not say_

I've always prided myself on being logical. I think things through, look at the big picture, and strategize. Driving towards Seattle, I can't help but wonder what in the hell I'm doing. The last few hours have been particularly bad, second-guessing every choice and rebuking myself for not waiting for Ben or calling for back up.

"Stop it! You need to do this," I yell, tired of my mental push and pull.

_Each road is long, though short it seems,_

_And credence gives each road a name_

_Of fantasies sun-drenched in beams_

_Or choices turned to darkened dreams_

_To where each road wends just the same._

Through the spaces of my dark thoughts, I also believe that I have to take a stand. I've been dealing with things I couldn't change for so long, Edward's return and my dad's death, not to mention the new allegations. I feel like everyone else has been making decisions for me. It might be a mistake, but at least I'm doing it on my terms. Between Garrett getting ready to label my dad publicly as a dirty cop and Diego's slimy partner stalking my friends, I'm left with few options, and the clock is ticking.

_This journey grows now to its end_

_As road reflections lined in chrome_

_Give way to roads with greater bend_

_And empty signs that still pretend_

_They point the way to home sweet home._

_"_ Auugghh!" Remembering the enigmatic words do nothing but sour my already worsening mood.

"Damn moody artists." Turning up the music to drown out the wind and my thoughts, I try to find something upbeat to distract me on the final leg of my trip.

My body is on the edge of collapse as the lines of the road begin to blur, my eyes burning with exhaustion. I silently rejoice as the sun peeks over the horizon, bringing the skyline of Seattle into view. I need to get off the road before I hurt someone or myself.

Glancing down at the moving dot on the GPS, I make sure I'm still on track. During my last stop for gas, I plugged in the address of a hotel I found a few blocks away from the address in question. Although a nagging voice reminds me that I don't have much time to waste, I'll be worthless without at least a little sleep.

"Only a few more miles," I sigh, convincing myself that I can make it.

Taking my exit, I'm once again thankful for my gun as I look around the rundown neighborhood. Spotting my destination, I decide that I must have lost my mind if I believed this was a good idea. Even though a large plastic sign against the building boasts a cheap weekly rate, the hotel, which is really a motel, looks like the type that will also rent a room by the hour. In any normal circumstance, I wouldn't even consider staying here.

Pushing the nagging concerns away, I realize that given my purpose, the place is also ripe with possibilities, especially since there are several groups of people lingering on the sidewalk near the motel, which could equate to witnesses. Glancing around, I take mental notes on the various individuals, deciding who to question first.

Several kids are playing on the walkway, an elderly woman sitting by an open door watching them closely. At first, I'm surprised to see children out at such an early hour, but then I notice the pile of backpacks. They are probably waiting for the school bus. Although it's chilly outside, I notice a couple of girls dressed in short skirts, tank tops, and high heels. Their poor choice in attire is probably an unfortunate marker of their profession.

From previous cases, I know that grandmother types and girls who work the street are great sources of information. They generally keep watch over all the happenings in the neighborhood. If that address involves any strange activities, there is a good chance they would have heard about it.

Pulling into a parking spot close to the lobby, I step into the lustful stares of several men sitting on the stairway. Hitting the lock surrounded by catcalls and whistles, I quickly walk into the building, refusing to acknowledge their repugnant attempts at getting my attention.

Stepping through the door, I'm hit with the smell of stale air with a hint of cigarettes. The middle-aged woman behind the counter is reading a celebrity magazine. She's wearing a white polo shirt and dark jeans, her bleach-blonde hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. Looking up, she moves closer to me with a pasted smile.

"You want a room?" She gazes up and down my body with a curious look.

"Yes, please."

"Okay." She turns and starts clicking on a computer. "How many nights?"

"I'm not sure yet," I answer, realizing that I haven't thought that far ahead. "Let's just do one for right now." I will probably need to stay in Seattle for more than one night, but I don't want to stay here any longer than I need.

The woman gives me another strange look before tapping on the keys of the computer again. "Okay, that's going to be sixty-two seventy-two with tax."

Pulling out my wallet, I pay with cash, while she slides the key over. Picking it up, I find myself smiling at the novelty of it. I can't remember the last time a hotel gave me an actual key.

"You're in room two-twenty. Checkout is at eleven. Need anything else?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks." I give her one last smile before walking out the door. The men continue their obnoxious behavior as soon as they see me. Reaching my car, and too tired to care, I glare in their direction, flipping them off.

"Feisty one, aren't you, baby? I've got something for your—" I shut my door on his sleazy attempt for a hook-up, not wanting to hear the completed sentence. Thankfully, my room is on the opposite side, so I don't have to hassle with walking past them to get to it.

Dragging myself up the stairs with key in hand, I open the tattered door to a depressingly dull and dingy room. Dropping my bags on the floor, I engage all the locks and place a chair under the handle for good measure. Glancing around, I'm shocked at the state of the room. There are stains on the walls and carpet, and the furniture is worn and outdated. The counters are also archaic and look like they would appear dirty no matter how much you cleaned them. The only thing that looks new is the flat screen TV, which seems out of place comparatively.

Moving my things to the chair by the table, I peer around the room again. Part of me wants to clean up, but given the state of everything else, I decide that it's probably best to avoid the shower. Looking at the bed, I cringe a bit when I notice several stains on the blue and gray bedspread.

"Best not to think about it," I murmur.

Taking out my gun and phone, I lay them on the nightstand furthest from the door. Kicking off my shoes, I peel back one side of the bedspread and carefully climb under the sheets in my clothes. Grabbing my phone, I set the alarm to go off in four hours, wanting to make sure I don't sleep too long. Luckily, the exhaustion of my long drive makes it easier to forget about where I am long enough to close my eyes, my body drifting away quickly.

* * *

A persistent knocking slowly brings me back from the depths of sleep. It takes me a moment to shake off my drowsy haze, but then adrenaline quickly takes over when I remember where I am. There is no reason that someone should be knocking. Grabbing the gun, I tiptoe my way to the door, the pounding intensifying.

"Bella!" The voice surprises me, and I don't know whether to be relieved or worried.

Leaving the chain in place, and hiding the hand with the gun behind my back, I open the door to the frustrated face of Sam. The sun shines brightly around him as he stands there in wrinkly slacks and a dress shirt. The collar is open, the tie that usually accompanies it missing. It makes him look as if he just stumbled out of an all-night party.

"What are you doing here?" I ask suspiciously.

He looks taken aback by question, as if he was expecting a different reaction. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"How did you know I was here?" I'm shocked that he doesn't see how strange his sudden arrival is.

Looking down for a second, he looks back up embarrassed. "Oh. I, umm, tracked your phone," he admits quietly.

"What?" I shout, livid at the invasion.

Holding up his hands, he steps back a bit. "Listen, Jasper mentioned to Garrett that you know about the new charges. I was worried that you might do something stupid." He pauses glancing around him. "Which, by the looks of this place, proves me right."

Questions swirl in my head along with the voices of Ben and Edward cautioning me about his intentions. "Why didn't you just call me?" I ask, bracing my foot at the bottom of the door, my hand tightening around the gun.

"Would you have told me anything? Or even answered?" he asks curtly, daring me to argue what he knows is the truth.

I stare at him for a moment, wishing that I could read his mind and know his intentions. "Probably not, but that still doesn't give you the right to track me."

"You didn't leave me much of a choice, especially after you bolted the last time we talked. I don't buy your excuses as easily as your friends do. You don't think that I didn't see your mind calculating when we talked last?"

"You don't know anything about what I was thinking!"

"Maybe not, but I recognize desperation when I see it. And I do know that someone who makes decisions from that place is only asking for trouble. I don't want that for you, Bella." He takes a step forward, leaning against the door.

In return, I push back with my foot, strengthening my hold. "That doesn't change the fact that what you did was wrong and uncalled for."

"I'm sorry, but I disagree. I would do the same for anyone else who I thought was in trouble." I know he's right, tracking a cellphone is now a common occurrence, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. "Can I come in?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." I can see him start to argue, but I continue before he can start. " _But_ , I'll meet you at the Denny's across the street. You're not the only one with questions," I remark brashly, standing my ground.

Sam smiles tightly, shaking his head. "Stubborn," he murmurs almost to himself. "Okay, Denny's it is. In ten?"

"Give me fifteen," I counter, closing the door and locking it before he can respond.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

His unexpected appearance is going to screw everything up. I need to come up with a plan quick because I doubt he's going to go anywhere easily. I can't accomplish my goal with him here, and I definitely can't have him around when Ben arrives. Mentally flipping through my options, I decide that maybe I can use his unexpected arrival to my advantage. I do want to know more about what he gave to Garrett. If he really wants to help me as he continues to proclaim, he can start there. Keeping him focused on that will also buy me some time while I figure out a way to get rid of him.

Laying the gun on the bed, I grab a fresh set of clothes and head to the bathroom to change and clean up. Once finished, I pick up the gun again and tuck it into my jeans, the metal feeling cold and uncomfortable against the skin of my back. Grabbing my phone, I stare at the logs screen, my finger hovering over it as my eyes fixate on Edward's number.

_"I'm not giving up. I'm going to fix everything, I promise. Remember, Bella, things aren't always what they seem."_

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I stuff the phone in my pocket and walk out the door. "Just stay focused, Bella."

Stepping into the restaurant, it takes me a minute to find Sam in a corner booth, away from the other patrons. He hasn't seen me yet, giving me an advantage to watch him uninterrupted. He's sitting at the table straightening the condiments, aligning them perfectly while he talks on the phone. His leg is bouncing when suddenly his fist slams down on the table.

"I know!" He quickly looks up, probably worried that he garnered the attention of the patrons around him. His stern face suddenly morphs into relief when he catches my eye. Saying one more thing, he hangs up and stands to wait for me. "You came," he sighs.

"I'm not late," I point out curtly.

"I know. It's just that you rarely do what I expect. Sadly, I think I like it. Does that make me a glutton for punishment?" he asks, flashing a brilliant smile and waving his arm for me to sit on the bench. His face turns sullen when I don't react to his flirtatious statement. "Note to self, not in a joking mood," he says quietly.

"There's not much to joke about." Shrugging out of my jacket, I place it on the side of bench closest to the window before scooting in.

Sam sits down across from me just as our waitress arrives. "Hi, can I get you anything to drink while you look over the menu?"

"I'll take a coffee." I push the menu away, not really feeling hungry.

"Make that two," Sam says.

"Great. I'll get those for you right now."

Tapping his fingers against the table, Sam watches her walk away before turning back to me. "So, you got a permit for that?"

"Huh?"

"I'm a trained agent, Bella. I can recognize the outline of a gun from across a room, let alone on someone standing right in front of me."

"I have a permit."

"In Washington?" he challenges. "You and I both know that San Francisco is a no-issue city for concealed weapons. According to Washington law, without a permit from another state, you need a concealed pistol license to carry one here."

"You gonna arrest me?" I refuse to crumble, relying on my assumption that he is just trying to prove a point.

His stare is pensive as he most likely calculates his next move. "I'll let it go for now, but don't think for a second that I won't arrest you if I think you're going to do something stupid. You got me?"

"I got you," I bite out, giving nothing away. "Can we get down to business now?"

Sam leans back and crosses his arms. "Sure. You said you had some questions?"

"Why are you helping Garrett ruin my dad?" I ask, jumping right in.

"I'm just doing my job, Bella. He's the lead prosecutor, which means I need to share relevant information with him."

"The evidence against my dad is circumstantial. Why would you go with those charges first?"

"First of all, I don't make the final decision on what's going to be charged and when. Remember, counselor?"

"Semantics."

"Secondly," he emphasizes, tapping his finger on the table. "You sure know a bait and switch when you hear one. We need to prevent him from running without giving our hand away, and this was the best solution. We're almost ready to roll with the major charges, and once we do, I imagine your dad's 'involvement' will fade into the background."

"I don't care if it becomes a footnote, I won't let you guys disparage his name!"

"Bella," he says, reaching his hand forward as if expecting that I will also reach out mine. "Step back to look at the big picture for a second. Are you telling me that you wouldn't do the same thing on any other case?"

"No," I acknowledge begrudgingly. He has me and he knows it. I've done this a lot, especially when time is running out. If we weren't talking about my dad, I probably would have made the same decision as Garrett. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're wrong."

He leans back again, pursing his lips. "How can you be so sure that he wasn't involved? There is more evidence to show that he was than wasn't. I think you're letting your love for him cloud your judgment."

"Don't hold anything back," I grumble.

"It's not that I don't understand, but I can't look through those same glasses, and what's more, I don't think you want me to."

"What—"

"Here's your coffee," The waitress interrupts, setting our cups down in front of us along with cream and sugar. "Are you ready to order?"

"I'm just going to have coffee, thanks." Smiling, I hand the menu back to her.

"I'm good, too," Sam says.

"Okay, let me know if you change your mind." With one last perky smile, she turns and walks away.

Swinging my eyes back to Sam, I jump in where we left off. "What do you mean, 'don't want you to'?"

"You've always been about truth and justice. We can't get to that without objectivity. This situation is no different, it's just more painful to grasp." He carefully stirs cream into his coffee, avoiding my eyes.

"I may believe in truth and justice, but if you think I'm going to turn my back on my dad without more evidence, you've lost your freaking mind!"

Sam tilts his head and smiles, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

His cheerful reaction throws me, but I don't let myself linger on it for long. His reaction is not as important as the truth. "Good, because I have another issue to discuss." Stirring cream and sugar into my own cup, I bring it to my lips and sip.

The cheerfulness fades as he looks at me warily. "Okay, shoot." His use of the catchy phrase doesn't hide the nervousness, his hands readjusting the condiments although they are perfectly straight.

"Why did you lie about my dad's finances?"

He looks stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"You told me he was taking money out of the supposed account, but that's not true."

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know that?"

I pause thinking about the best way to frame my response. I want him to know that I have solid proof, but I can't give up Ben, nor do I want to give away everything, especially the suspicion that someone set it up. Besides, I want to get more information from him than he gets from me. I plan to keep my upper hand.

"You're not the only one who can check into information. From what I gathered, those accounts weren't touched."

"The Internal Affairs Group found that information when they started investigating him. They told me he was taking out just enough to stay afloat but stay under the radar."

"And their documents showed that?"

"They didn't show me the documents," he admits.

"What do you mean they didn't show you the documents? How could you just accept what they said?" I shout, causing several tables to turn and look at us.

Sam glares at them before leaning over the table. "Because it's the fucking IAG, Bella," he hisses.

"For being a smart agent, you certainly disappoint."

His eyes narrow further. "What are you insinuating?"

"That this is the exact same issue I had with Riley's case. Your job is to build a solid case. You don't take anything at face value. I don't care if you hear it from God himself, you get the fucking proof!"

Looking directly at me, he pulls out his phone, quickly hitting the screen. "Hey, it's Uley. Did we get those files yet from the IAG?...Did they send the withdrawal records for Swan's account?...Well, look now." We sit in a silent standoff while whomever he called does as requested. "What do you mean, no?...Fuck! Call them and get those files!...I don't care how. Hell, have Garrett send an order to produce…Just do it… Fine, I'll be in touch."

Putting the phone back in his pocket, he takes a few moments to reign in his temper. "Looks like you have me dead to rights…again."

"So it would seem." I bite my tongue to stop myself from obnoxiously gloating. "Given Riley's reach, did you seriously think he couldn't have someone at IAG in his pocket?"

"No, but these guys seemed solid."

"Don't they all." Realizing the door I just opened, I narrow my eyes at Sam. "If you make a comparison to my dad, I swear to God I will throw this knife right at your head," I threaten holding up the utensil.

Sam stares for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "Were you a part of a circus act that I'm not aware of?" Noticing that I'm not laughing, he tries to calm down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but you look adorable trying to threaten me with a butter knife."

"Adorable?" I huff. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Getting his laughter under control, he reaches his hand across the table. "Okay, okay. Truce?" he asks. "I screwed up. Let me make it up to you by helping now."

Tentatively reaching across the table, I grasp his hand firmly. "Truce," I repeat, deciding to use his desire to fix things to my advantage. "How are you going to help me?"

"What are you doing here, Bella?" he asks, deflecting the specific question. "I know that something led you to the neighborhood where Charlie was murdered. What did you find?"

Seeing Sam's reaction to the call eases my concern about him providing me with false information. He didn't know, and clearly feels bad. However, I still can't bring myself to tell him the truth at this point. So instead, I try to weave a believable a story.

"I honestly don't know. It sounds stupid, but I thought maybe being here would make me feel closer to him somehow," I whisper, staring into my cooling coffee. I almost believe it myself.

"I think I do. I did some strange things to overcome my mom's death too." Sam taps my cup to get my attention. "What can I do?"

Formulating a plan to get him out of my hair, I lift my eyes to his. "You can find my dad's murderer and nail's Riley's ass for orchestrating it."

Sitting up straighter, he narrows his eyes. "I haven't exactly been baking cookies over here. I've been busting my ass to find answers."

"What about the withdrawal documents?"

"You heard me, I'm getting them."

"Except you're right here, in Seattle. Why wait? Go get them, and any other piece of evidence they didn't show you."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Probably sleep. You kind of interrupted that earlier," I smirk wanting to keep the momentum going.

"Here?"

"They probably frown on that here. I was actually thinking about the motel," I answer sarcastically.

"That shit hole is dangerous, Bella," he responds, undeterred by my attempt at humor.

"That's not your concern." Seeing the frustration flare in his eyes, I quickly bite my tongue from saying anything further. I need him to go, and fighting won't help.

"Bella—"

"I know, I know. You're right. I'll move out of the murder hotel, you go track down those documents, and then we'll meet up later."

"You're going to sleep?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yup, as soon as I find a safe and comfy hotel."

"I can take you."

"No, that's okay. I have my own car," I cover quickly. We sit in silence, his contemplative eyes scanning me while my mind quickly tries to come up with another plan in case he doesn't let me go easily.

After several agonizing seconds, he finally concedes. "At least let me walk you back." Standing up, he throws some money on the table.

"Okay." Following his lead, I grab my jacket and get out of the booth.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Sam asks, walking next to me.

"My dad taught me before he gave me one. He wanted me to know how to protect myself."

"That's good," he says quietly. "Make sure you keep it with you until you leave there."

"I can take care of myself, Sam. You really don't need to worry." I purposefully place my hand on his arm, trying to ease his concerns before he changes his mind about leaving.

Looking down, he smiles. "I know you can, but it doesn't mean that I don't worry."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I whisper, continuing to move forward before he can see the lie in my eyes.

The closer we get to the motel, the more anxious I become. That jittery feeling of knowing I am almost home free pulses through my body. I have to stop myself from bouncing and giving my anticipation away. Reaching my door, Sam looks glances around uneasily.

"I'll be fine. The best thing you can do for me is get those documents," I interject before he can raise another argument.

"Yeah, okay."

Sam waits until I go in and lock the door before he leaves. I watch through a crack in the curtain as he walks down the stairs and heads off on his wild goose chase. I know there are no documents, but I'm hoping it will take most of the afternoon for him to figure that out. Maybe his anger about the IAG misleading him will also push him to find out who was trying to manipulate evidence in the first place.

Confident that it's been long enough for him to reach his car and drive away, I rush over to my bag and pull out a grey hoodie deciding that it might be good to try and conceal my identity as much as I can. I don't plan to try to get into that building without Ben, but there's nothing to say I can't ask people questions about it.

Peeking out of the window again, I breathe a sigh of relief when his car is still gone, a part of me worried he would turn around before he got far. Unlocking the door, I double check to make sure my gun is secure before I walk out.

I'm disappointed to see that the girls on the corner have left. I will have to wait until later to talk to them. Luckily, the elderly woman is still sitting in her chair working on some sort of cross-stitch project. The kids, however, are gone, most likely confirming my earlier school theory.

"Excuse me," I say with a wave. She looks over at me cautiously. "Hi, can I ask you a couple of questions?"

"You the police?"

"No. I just want to ask a couple of questions, I swear," I respond calmly trying to ease her concern.

"About what?" she asks coolly, pushing her needlework to the side.

"I have a friend who's thinking about buying in this neighborhood for her business. I just wanted to ask you about it. Have you lived here long?"

"Long enough to know this ain't no place to start a business."

I laugh in agreement. "Believe me, I've tried to tell her the same thing, but she fell in love with this building a few blocks away." Pulling out the paper, I hold it out to her. "Know anything about it."

She stares at my hand for a moment before leaning forward to look at the address. Her eyes widen and then unexpectedly she grabs a cane next to the chair, shakily standing up. "You don't want anything to do with that," she hisses, dragging the chair across the concrete awkwardly with one hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Tell your friend she wants no part of that building. Tell her to stay far away." She continues to drag the chair, heading back to the open room behind her.

"I don't understand. What's wrong with that address?"

Finally, getting the chair into the room, she turns to face me, preparing to shut the door. "There's evil in that building. You don't want any part of it."

Slamming the door in my face, I stand there stunned, trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. At least her reaction confirms that something is going on there, and if any word describes Riley Biers, it would be evil.

Her reaction excites the prosecutor side of me. If there is enough activity to cause this level of fear, chances are there will also be evidence. Especially if Riley thinks it's a safe address. Grabbing my phone, I contemplate calling Ben again, but stop, reminding myself that he is still on his case. I have no doubt that as soon as he finds that note he will be calling me, which means I'm in a holding pattern until he does.

Not wanting to stand around, I decide that walking by the place won't cause any harm. Securing the hoodie, I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk to the sidewalk with my head down. Looking at my phone, I hit the address again making sure that I am heading in the right direction. According to the map, I just need to follow this street a couple more blocks and then turn right.

A few minutes later, I round the corner, the sight achingly familiar after staring at it for so long on the computer. If possible, the neighborhood looks even more depressing in person. Several of the buildings are vacant, their windows blocked with wood that's been tagged and colored. I immediately recognize the liquor store on the corner, which means my target is just two buildings down.

Glancing around, I notice an opening to an alley across the street. It is located about midway down the block, which should give me a good view of the building in question. Waiting for the light to change, I quickly jog across the street and dart into the space, standing against the wall.

The alley is small, the typical but horrid smell of urine and mold overwhelming my senses. Several large garbage bins line the left side with several homeless individuals sleeping against them. Glancing around the corner, I can spot the building just a few feet over from where I am. The spot gives me the perfect vantage point to watch with minimal risk of detection.

At first glance, the three-story building looks innocuous. The brick fronting is dilapidated with several areas that are crumbling away. None of the windows are boarded, however, which suggests that it is not vacant. For several minutes, I watch as people walk by, nobody paying any attention to the building they pass, and I can't spot any movement in the windows. It's almost as if the whole place is in a holding pattern too, just sitting there waiting for someone to make a move.

Gazing at my phone, I decide that I'll give it five more minutes before I head back to the motel. I can't help the flood of disappointment I feel having gained nothing from my journey so far. I need to go back and come up with a better game plan. I wanted to make more ground before Ben gets here so that we can tackle the building as soon as he arrives. At this point, I've learned nothing more than what I gathered online, which means we would still be going in blind. I would at least like to have a name to go with the address.

When five minutes turns to ten, I decide that it's time to give up the ghost. Taking a step forward, I hear a car pull up next to the opening of the alley. Slinking back against the wall, I wait for the driver to get out and leave. Tapping my feet impatiently as the minutes tick by, I wonder what this person is waiting for, my ears straining, listening for the sound of a closing door.

"Come on," I whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well just come out," Sam calls.

_Fuck!_ Pushing back from the wall angrily, I step around the corner, crossing my arms. "Still following me I see."

"I almost bought it, but the more I thought about your explanation and what I know about you, the more I realized that you were full of shit."

"How flattering," I spit out narrowing my eyes.

"Don't try to deflect. This isn't where your dad was murdered, so what's the interest?"

No matter how my mind spins it, I can't think of a way to lie my way out of this. And the more he suspects, the more he's going to dig. Not wanting to lay out all my cards or put Ben in jeopardy, I decide giving up the address is the best solution. Besides, at this point, maybe his resources will get me more information.

"I found an address in some of my dad's documents," I admit, making sure to keep the actual origin a secret. He doesn't need to know about the tablet or those files yet.

"Which one?" he asks, glancing behind him. "I'm assuming it's here."

"The brick building across the street," I answer, pointing to it.

"Uh huh," he mutters, turning to look. Suddenly, his fiery eyes swing around to mine. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I don't know. I just needed to check it out on my own. I don't even know what's there. Besides knowing of its existence, I don't have much information."

"Which is why you should have called me," he hisses. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looks across the street again before focusing back on me. "We going in or what?"

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? So let's go. You want to play detective, then let's do it!" He grabs my hand and drags me down the street to the crosswalk.

"Shouldn't we see what it is first, or call for back up?" I ask breathlessly, trying to keep up.

"No," he growls, crossing the street, still holding my hand tightly.

"But you don't have a warrant or—"

"If we find something, we'll get a warrant and come back."

"That's not how—"

Sam twists his head and looks at me as it I'm crazy. "You're really going to spew law to me _now_? Especially considering what you've been up to?" I don't have a response. Once again, he has me. His stride finally slows once we get closer to the building. "Here's the deal, you do whatever I tell you to do. Got it!"

"Got it," I whisper.

Walking to the door, Sam glances around before pulling out his wallet and grabbing a lock pick from it. "Keep an eye out. This should just take me a second."

"Okay," I whisper, turning around to scan the street, looking for anyone who appears interested in this building or us. My stomach is queasy. I want more information, but this situation doesn't feel right.

"I'm in." Turning around, I see Sam stuffing the lock pick in his back pocket before taking his gun out of the holster under his jacket. "Stay behind me."

Taking a deep breath, that aggravating poem fills my thoughts again as I follow him into the building.

_This journey grows now to its end._

_As road reflections lined in chrome_

_Give way to roads with greater bend_

_And empty signs that still pretend_

_They point the way to home sweet home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun. Tune in next week when we circle around to the beginning.


	13. Chapter 12: Long Way Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Thank you to TLS for rec'ing my story. They are awesome and I appreciate it more than I can say! :)
> 
> LostInPA is my rock. These chapters wouldn't be the same without her advice and red pen. Beautifulnightmarex, what can I say, she is the best. :)
> 
> Alright here we go...

Chapter 12: Long Way Down

_"For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would look like complete destruction."_

_Cynthia Occelli_

* * *

_"The trick is to stay low," Edward whispers, peering over the large boulder we are hiding behind. "Still no sight of them." Squatting back down, he re-loads his paintball gun before taking mine and doing the same thing._

_"Stay low, got it," I respond, mentally pumping myself up. I've never played paintball before and considering we are up against Emmett and Rose, I'd say our team's chances of coming out ahead are slim._

_"We need to work together, so watch for my signals."_

_"Signals?" I look at him incredulously. "Signals like…" I flutter my hands and fingers trying to copy the gestures I see on cop shows._

_Edward laughs, falling back against the rock. "What was that?"_

_"Stop laughing, mister, or you'll get a vest full of paint."_

_"Hey, you're screwed if you take me out, Swan! In fact, you'd be lost without me," he jokes with a wink before giving me a quick peck on the lips. "This is what I meant by signals." Using his hand, he crisply throws several different gestures. I'm impressed._

_"I'll do my best." I don't remember half of what he just did, but I can fake it with the best of them._

_"They're not going to expect us to be on point, so that will give us a tactical advantage."_

_"Wow, considering you haven't completed any tactical training yet, you certainly seem to know your stuff." Edward started the academy a couple of weeks ago, but he spends most of his days doing calisthenics and course work._

_"Umm, yeah," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "It's an interest of mine."_

_"Really?"_

_"I've actually been thinking about putting in for SWAT once I get on the force."_

_"How come you never mentioned that before?" I ask, forgetting for a moment that we are in the middle of a game._

_"I just decided," he answers, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought the regular force was enough, but I realized that I need more."_

_"Oh." I want to be supportive, but the idea of him in SWAT scares me._

_"Shhh, I see them," he whispers, looking over the rock again. "On my count, run right. I'll cover you."_

_My heart is pounding. "Got it."_

_"Don't worry, baby. We're going to kick butt."_

_"Damn straight." I smile, feeding off his energy and confidence._

_"Okay, get ready. One, two, three…run!"_

_I get up and go, assured that he has my back. Edward would never let anything happen to me._

* * *

Standing behind Sam, I wish I had paid closer attention to Edward's tactical advice. _You also wish he was here watching your back_ , a nagging voice mocks, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

Opening the door, Sam lifts his gun, pointing it into the dark building. Glancing behind me, I'm surprised that no one reacted to him drawing the gun. Sadly, it is probably an all too common occurrence around here.

"Clear," he whispers, moving forward. Shuffling close behind, I follow him into the entryway. "Close the door."

Doing as he says, darkness quickly falls over us, the only source of light extinguished as the heavy door slams shut. Before I can protest, Sam turns on the flashlight attached to his gun illuminating a narrow path. The hallway in front of us is tiny, most of the space absorbed by a rickety staircase. To the right, the hallway continues to what looks like a back door, piles of old newspapers lining the wall all the way down.

Sam glances at me, gesturing to the door directly on our left. Nodding my head, I step to the side as he tries the knob. Having no luck, he steps back, and abruptly kicks it open with a loud thwack. Pausing, Sam swings his gun back towards the stairwell, most likely waiting to see if anyone reacts to the noise.

After several seconds of silence, he signals for us to go in. The room is small and looks like it was an office at one point if the wooden desk in the corner is any indication. Besides that, it is empty, offering no indication of what the building is or if anyone lives here.

Gesturing again, he indicates that we are moving forward. Following him up the stairs, Sam takes his time, carefully aiming the gun around each corner. Reaching the second story, he stops again. There are three doors on this level, two on the right, and one on the left.

Motioning towards the door on the left, we slink against wall as Sam's watchful eyes scan the stairwell and other doors. Once we reach our destination, he tries the knob, this time finding it unlocked. Swinging the door open, he walks in, waving for me to follow. Stepping into the room, I can see the shadowed outline of furniture, but the beam from Sam's flashlight moves on before I can get a good look at anything in particular.

"I'm going to find a light," he whispers, moving around me. "Here we go."

With a quiet click, the room illuminates with a soft glow from a nearby table lamp. In the light, I can see that this is a tiny apartment. There is a small kitchen is to the right, the countertops clear and clean. Heavy curtains cover two large windows in front of me, preventing any sunlight from penetrating the dark.

The living room only has a small couch and chair, which are facing each other. Interestingly, there are no electronics in sight, which is odd for our technology-centered world. The cream-colored carpet is well maintained, so much so, that I can still see the perfectly aligned vacuum lines. Obviously, someone was here recently, and I can't help the excitement that bubbles up knowing that this place holds potential for finding answers.

Roaming around, I spot an open door to the right. Looking in, I expect to see a bedroom, but instead find an empty room. Switching on the light, I feel like I've been kicked in the chest. Grabbing the doorframe for support, I try to regain my breath as my body sways in shock. Photos of dozens of women cover the back wall. Most of them look to be prostitutes, going about their business, unaware that someone is stalking them, photographing them. It's a chilling sight. Whoever took these undoubtedly had an ill intent.

Stepping closer, I start "reading" the wall. Walking from left to right, I look for any pattern or dates on the photos. Unfortunately, nothing sticks out beyond the horror of the pictures themselves. Halfway across, I come to a picture of Samantha, I recognize her immediately from the photos Ben showed me. Like most of the girls, there are several shots of her standing by walls or leaning into a car window. I know in my gut that her appearance isn't a coincidence.

Continuing to move down the wall, I confirm my own suspicions when the dynamic of the pictures change. After Samantha, they focus on one specific subject…Katie. Like the others, they are all surveillance shots. However, instead of just several pictures of her, there are dozens. The person must have followed her for weeks.

Turning to my right, I quickly back up several feet, slamming into the wall behind me. " _Sam_!" I scream.

In front of me is another collage, but this time it is my face staring back. As with Katie, there are dozens of shots taken of me outside of my house and walking along the street.

"No, no, no. This can't be real."

"You never do what I expect," Sam's voice startles me. He's leaning against the doorframe, holding his gun in one hand while casually looking at the nails of his other.

"No," I whisper, unbridled fear engulfing me. "I don't understand. How…"

"I'm sure you have a ton of questions, but before we go there," he points the pistol at me, "I need you to hand over your phone and gun."

The initial shocks wanes to red-hot anger, and in the moment, I find it difficult to control my mouth. "And if I don't?" My hand flexes, reaching around towards my back.

"Don't be stupid, Bella. I'd shoot you before you even had a chance to touch it. I haven't gotten this far by hesitating. Now, be a good girl and hand them over."

I reluctantly nod, glancing around the room, looking for anything I can use to my advantage. Sam steps forward, holding out his hand. Taking my phone out, I give it to him first, still trying to calculate if there is a way to shoot when I pass him the gun.

Just as my hand slides around the handle, Sam raises his hand. "Wait." He cocks his head to the side evaluating me, his dark eyes searching mine. "Turn around. I'd better take that myself."

_Fuck._

Following his instructions, I feel him move closer, his hand slowly reaching under my shirt. Instead of taking the gun right away, he runs his finger across the small of my back.

"Your skin is so soft," he whispers.

"Just take the gun, asshole," I grit out, his touch making me cringe. Finally, he yanks it out, scratching me in the process. Before I can turn back around, he grabs my wrists, cold steel encircling them as he puts me into cuffs.

"Extra insurance in case you're feeling brave," he breathes into my ear. "Let's go."

Yanking on my arm, he drags me to the living room and throws me into the chair. Circling behind, he pushes me forward and lifts my cuffed wrists. I bite my lip from crying out, my shoulders screaming in protest from the awkward movement. Unexpectedly, he releases my left hand. Keeping my right hand bound, he attaches the other cuff around a steel loop built into the arm of chair. Pulling on the hook, I try not to think about the purpose of its placement.

Moving around to the front, he takes my phone out of his back pocket and quickly switches it off. "Don't want to take any chances now, do we?" He winks, putting it back in his pocket.

"I guess I brought this on myself," I hiss angrily. I hate myself for not thinking about my phone. I tried to cover all my bases, but didn't even consider the implications of having it on when I left Ben's, relying on it for directions.

Sam laughs. I want to punch him. "Do you really think that would have stopped me? I knew you were up to something. Besides, as you can tell," Sam smiles proudly, waving his arm towards the picture room, "I'm pretty good at following you with or without a phone."

"How do you get to this point, Sam?" I ask, trying to keep him engaged in conversation, desperately needing to buy some time. Scanning the room, I don't see anything helpful. The room is stark and clean, almost clinical. I should have connected those dots sooner.

"Which point are we talking about, counselor? You and me or those pictures?"

"Is there a difference?"

Sam tilts his head with a smirk. "Yes, although they seem to be intersecting today." Strolling over to the window, he flings open one of the curtains, sunlight blinding the room. "Let's shed some light on things, shall we," he mocks.

Leaning down, he opens a decorative chest. My stomach drops, when he pulls out a rope. Walking back, he kneels down reaching for my legs. Reacting on impulse, I strike, catching his chin with my foot.

Falling backwards, he rolls to his side and grabs his face. Using the opportunity, I yank on my wrist hoping to dislodge the hook. Using my free hand, I try to twist it as I continue to pull up, the cuff cutting into my skin.

"Bitch," Sam snarls, wiping blood from his lip.

"Careful, you don't want to mess up your pretty carpet." Before I comprehend what is about to happen, Sam leaps up and backhands me across the cheek. My face whips to the side, pain exploding across my jaw.

"Damn it!" Sam shouts, rushing towards the window to slam his fist against the wall, his back pulsating with heavy breaths. "You drive me crazy."

Watching him unravel is terrifying. If I'm going to get anywhere, I need to play to his ego. "I'm impressed. You've fooled a lot of people. How did you do it?" I lick my lip, tasting the bitterness of blood, my cheek throbbing.

He doesn't acknowledge my question at first, his head shaking back and forth as he struggles to regain his composure. Finally, he turns, eyeing me carefully. "It's easier than you imagine."

"Tell me about it."

Moving forward, he sits on the couch in front of me. Settling into the cushions, he stretches his arm across the back. "Riley recruited me about four years ago. He knew that an investigation was inevitable. But since he's a son of a bitch, Riley wasn't going to back down. He knew that his only option was to place someone on the inside to make sure the case didn't go anywhere."

"The holes," I whisper, remembering our first conversation.

"It's trickier than it seems, giving off the appearance that you're working your butt off, but also making sure the case will bomb in court. I became a master at it."

The use of the word master gives me pause, but I can't linger on it for long. I need to keep him talking since he's obviously in a boasting mood. "I guess your frustration the day we met makes a lot more sense."

Sam looks at me with a thoughtful smile. "Yeah. You really pissed me off. You weren't supposed to be that good."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"That's the thing, you didn't, at least not for me. You impressed the hell out of me, even though you shot the plan all to hell."

"I still don't understand this 'plan'."

"Riley pulled strings to make sure you got the case."

"Why me?"

"Who better to assign to his case than the depressed, grieving girl. We figured you'd just go along with me. Considering how distracted you were, we believed that you'd be easy prey in court, especially for a team of high-paid lawyers. They would challenge the evidence, and you would falter. Case dismissed."

His story deals an unexpected blow. "Are you telling me that Riley killed my dad as a part of some sort of scheme to get him off?"

Sam looks down, his fingers tapping frantically on the cushion. "That's not what got your father killed," he sneers, almost sounding offended.

I stop myself from lashing out. No matter how much I want to defend my dad, the most important thing right now is getting out of this alive. "Then what got him killed?"

"Samantha and Katie."

"He found out..." I trail off, the gruesome picture becoming clearer.

"He figured out they were both killed by the same person," Sam confirms vaguely.

"You killed them," I state bluntly. "I just…how—"

"I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel," he interrupts, his voice taking on a distant tone. "To kill."

"You're sick," I scoff, remembering the pictures of the autopsies.

He looks up with a sinister laugh. "Maybe to some, but I think I'm free."

"I don't understand."

"I spent all day reading these files, finding myself wondering what it was like, and if I could do it better. So, I started experimenting."

"Experimenting?" I question, needing, yet dreading, his explanation.

"There are lots of desperate girls willing to do almost anything for money. I'd pay them for sex and then try things out. Testing how it would feel to wrap my fingers around someone's neck. To beat someone to a pulp. To rape them." He looks down at his hand, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he describes his actions. "For months, I didn't go any further than that."

"How in the hell were you not reported?"

He looks up scornfully. "Look around, Bella. Do you think that many people pay attention to what happens here? As long as the homeless and prostitutes stay out of 'their' neighborhoods, no one cares. Most people think they bring it on themselves."

Rage pulses through my body hearing the callous way he's objectified his victims, using them for his own disgusting purposes. Unfortunately, no matter how angry his explanation makes me, I also know that he is correct. Not many girls report the things that happen to them on the street, but they do try to watch out for each other.

"That doesn't explain how you kept getting the girls. There's no way they didn't talk to each other about what you did. You should have been blackballed at some point."

"Riley is like a boogie man in these parts, his name alone evokes deathly fear. I just made it well known that I worked for him. They believed that if I wasn't happy, then he wasn't happy. It was an easy sell." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"You forced them," I growl, twisting and pulling on my wrist, still hoping to loosen the metal loop.

"I convinced them," he smirks with a nauseating wink.

Biting my tongue from lashing out at his comment, I focus on keeping the conversation going. "What changed with Samantha? Why kill her?"

Sam clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "It wasn't planned. I guess you could say that things got out of hand." A wistful smile lights up his face, his sick mind probably finding pleasure in the memory.

"And Katie?"

Leaning forward, he clasps his hands in front of him. "I needed a bigger challenge. It was getting too easy. After Samantha, I realized it was time to take things to a new level."

I swallow back the bile rising in my throat as he glibly explains his escalation. "Why her?"

Another wistful look crosses his face. "She was a philosophy professor. I met with her about a quote left at a crime scene I was working. She had a certain quality that…intrigued me."

My stomach continues to flutter, realizing just how depraved he really is. "So you stalked her."

Sam cocks his head to look at me. "No matter what you think, I admired her. She excited me."

"You're a sick fuck," I blurt out, unable to control my reactions to his repulsive distortions any longer.

Sam's calm demeanor swiftly changes. "Don't you dare sit there in judgment of me! At our core, we are all animals. It is in our nature to lust after blood."

"That's crazy!"

He leans forward again. "Really? Let's talk about the number of people who hunt. Or how about war and genocide. We are all predisposed to violence. The faster you embrace that fact, the more free you feel."

"And yet you hide your behavior."

"I'm not stupid, Bella. Society still clings to these rigid rules of right and wrong. I'm not going to spend my life in prison."

"You weren't as smart as you thought though," I happily point out. "My dad figured you out."

Sam bursts in to laughter. "No, actually he didn't. He contacted me because he believed the murders were connected to Riley. He found out that I was lead investigator on his case and he wanted to consult."

"Because of the girls," I mutter, putting the pieces together.

"He persuaded some friends of a couple of the girls that I hurt to talk to him. However, since they never met me, all they had was a vague description and a belief that the person was connected to Riley's organization. As far as Charlie was concerned, I was 'working' with him. He was trying to get enough evidence to go back to his superiors and prove that he had a case."

The list of phone conversations from my dad's file flashes in my mind. They must have been his meetings with Sam. "So what happened?"

"Like you, he was better than I expected, and was actually able to track things back here. This is my sanctuary, I knew if he investigated it—"

"He would have discovered that you killed them." The room closes in around me, my body trembling. I clench my fist trying to make it stop, not wanting to show him any weakness. A part of me knew as soon as I saw him leaning against the doorframe, but being this close to hearing the truth is physically painful. " _You_ killed him," I whisper.

Sam's face breaks into a wide grin. "You should have seen the look on his face. That moment of realization before I pulled the trigger..." he trails off, lost in the memory.

I've never hated someone as much as I hate him. I want him to suffer, to pay for what he's done, but none of that will happen if I don't get out of here first. Swallowing my pain, I focus on keeping him talking. "I don't imagine that Riley took kindly to your new hobby."

Sam leans back, his face contemplative. "He didn't know about my extracurricular activities until I killed Charlie. There was some major clean up to do afterwards, especially because I didn't know if he had anything else on me or Riley."

"How are you not dead? Riley should have killed you then."

Sam huffs out a laugh. "Please, I have Riley by the balls. He can't touch me and he knows it."

"How do you figure?" His hubris amazes me. As much as I've studied Riley Biers, I know he wouldn't let this level of betrayal stand.

"There is no one else in the FBI that he could tap to take over. He loses me and the case moves forward. Not to mention that if the lead investigator suddenly shows up dead, Riley will be the first person they suspect."

"Somehow I don't seem him caving that easily."

"Oh, he didn't, but Riley's a make lemons into lemonade type of guy, especially when word got back about how badly you were taking it."

"That's when I was assigned," I acknowledge, fully comprehending the bizarre and cryptic way everything fits together. "This was quite the set up."

"Except like I said, you didn't react as planned," Sam remarks seriously, pulling at his chin. "You had an unexpected spark."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sorry for ruining your plans," I snarl.

Sam's responding laughter throws me; my behavior must have put him in a bad spot with Riley. "I had to rethink everything. Ironically, you helped to fix what you unknowingly ruined."

"How?" I ask slowly, narrowing my eyes at his continued audacity.

"The journal. It struck me that I could take the heat off of me and keep you distracted by implicating Charlie." Different conversations and inconsistencies flood my mind. "But you never made it easy. You never reacted the way I expected."

"You keep saying that, like there was some play book I should have followed. I'm not as simple as that." I'm finding it harder and harder to hold back my temper.

"I know," he murmurs with another smarmy smile. "And I loved it. I've never met anyone like you."

His admiring eyes make my skin crawl. "And you what, think that means there's some sort of connection between us?"

Sam's demeanor abruptly changes again, his eyes becoming dark and stormy. He jumps up and starts pacing, the anger from earlier returning full force. "I don't understand how I can love and hate how you act at the same time."

"What do you mean?" I whisper, watching his frantic movements. My mind appraises his mercurial ways, trying to find a pattern to use to my advantage. I need to keep him calm. Cocky Sam is easier to deal with; this Sam is too unpredictable.

"I wanted you to rely on me, but no matter what I did, you just pushed me away."

"How?"

"You didn't react to any of my advances or show your gratitude for all the hard work I was doing to find your dad's killer."

" _You are my dad's killer_!" Sam has crossed the bridge to insanity. He's making no sense.

He stops pacing to turn towards me, his fists clenched. "But you didn't know that! Yet every time I turned around, you were leaning on that fucker Edward Cullen. So, I had to take him out too. I needed you to rely on me and _only_ me!" he screams.

"The picture," I whisper.

"I had to make sure you distanced yourself from him. To show you that I was better."

"Don't fool yourself. You're not one-tenth the man that Edward Cullen is," I spit out wanting to hurt him, forgetting for a moment that I should be trying to keep him calm.

"Shut up!" He rushes forward, slapping my face again. Pain radiates through my head, making the room spin for a moment. "And then you ran away from me!" He continues undeterred by my discomfort. His chest is heaving, his face red.

Shaking my head, I bury my anger, pushing it down to think logically. I can't let my tongue get the best of me again, not if I want to survive. I need to keep him talking about his plan. He's seems to have more control with that topic. It's when he talks about "us" that he starts to unravel.

"I don't understand. If the plan was for me to tank the case, why did you make sure that I took myself off of it." He looks up, his frantic eyes settling on me. "You had to have some reason," I assert trying to bring him back from the edge.

"Of course I did," he whispers gruffly.

"What was it?"

A small smirk breaks through his anger, his breath slowing. "It was to prove to Riley that I was in charge. He didn't want me to have anything to do with you. I wanted to show him just how much control I have."

"I can't imagine that went over well."

"Screw him. He thinks he's god's gift. He has no clue what true power is."

"And you do."

"Damn right. I'm here, aren't I? I'm the one moving all the pieces to my own benefit."

"Right. Like at the diner. That was quite the trick with your phone. Who'd you call?"

"My answering machine," he grins. "I figured it was the best way to calm your suspicions. I needed you on my side again."

He stares at me with the same revolting look as when he talked about Katie. His obsessions are obviously the thing that makes him lose control. His love for killing took on a different turn with her, which he apparently transferred to me.

"What's the end game here?" He looks at me confused. "I mean, there is no way you can have it all. Riley isn't going to stand for what you've done. You have to know he's not going to let it go."

"He can try all he wants. I'll be able to stay one step ahead."

"You really think you can beat him, frame my dad, and still get me?"

Sam narrows his eyes, his stride purposeful as he stalks forward. Shutting my eyes, I brace for another assault, the hit, however, never comes. Instead, a wood-splitting crash disrupts the silence. Opening my eyes, I watch as Sam immediately draws his gun, pointing it towards the noise.

"It's just me," a man yells from the hallway. I don't need to see him to know who it is; the sound of his voice makes my blood run cold. If things weren't hopeless before, they certainly are now.

"What are you doing here?" Sam snarls, still leveling his gun towards the door.

"You really are a dumb fuck, Sam." I strain my neck around and watch as the man who attacked me in the alley walks through the now broken door, holding a gun of his own. "Riley told you to stay away from her. With everything else going on, he doesn't have time to deal with your sadistic shit."

"Fuck you, Alec. Neither of you understand. Bella and I _belong_ together."

Alec moves closer, laughing as he glances between Sam and I. "Oh yeah, nothing says romance like cuffing a girl to a chair. You're crazy, man."

"What do you want?" Sam grits out through clenched teeth, his hand tightening around the gun.

"I'm here to clean up your fucking mess. Both you and your girl here have become too much of a liability."

Anxiously watching their standoff, I continue to pull on my restraints, ignoring the increasing pain in my wrist as the cuff digs deeper into my skin. The room is silent as the two men stare each other down, neither backing off. I start praying that they will just take out each other. It might be my only shot at making it out of here alive.

"You're not going to take her from me!" Sam roars moving closer, his gun waving wildly. Our surprise guest has him teetering on the edge once again.

Alec laughs ruefully, casually strolling forward, not affected at all by Sam's unraveling behavior. "What the hell is so special about this bitch anyway? Brunettes are a dime a dozen, my friend. Why don't you just go pay for another one? They'll probably be a lot more willing to play your games than the counselor here."

Alec continues to creep closer as Sam glances frantically between the two of us. "Stay back," he warns.

"You think you have the final say, Sam? You have no idea about the world of shit you are in." I can no longer see him out of the corner of my eye, but can hear his voice getting nearer. Suddenly, I feel his hands slip over my shoulders, tightening as Sam's eyes go wide.

"Let go. She's mine." Sam's voice rumbles through his chest, his body coiled.

"Or what?" Alec asks, his hands now reaching around my throat, with a swift squeeze, my airway is stifled. My free hand automatically flies up, clawing at my captor.

"What do you want?"

"It's not what I want, it's what Riley wants, which is to end you."

"He needs me," Sam spits back.

"You think? What if the lead investigator went rogue. Or better yet, went crazy, which isn't too far of a stretch. You think that this can't be laid on you? Then everything you touched is tainted. Game over on the fed's case."

Alec's hands squeeze again causing the room to dim. I have no defense and no escape. Sam lets out a primal scream preparing to make a move against Alec, when suddenly the game dramatically changes again.

The next few seconds are a blur. The windows explode around me, flashes of light and smoke filling the room. Alec releases his hold, both of them yelling as Sam dives for cover from the shattering glass. I try to cover as best I can, but feel several of the shards cutting into my skin.

Trying to keep track of what is happening, I twist my head just in time to see Alec staggering out of the door. I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. Turning back around, I watch as Sam crawls closer. Kneeling in front of me, he points the gun at my head. He's saying something, but my ears don't seem to work, his words garbled. I can't stop coughing, the smoke choking me and making it hard to breathe.

A long forgotten rhyme repeats over and over in my mind as I take in the chaotic scene. The haunted and child-like voices that accompany the echoing words only add to the already unbearable pounding in my head.

_Three, six, nine_

_The goose drank wine_

_The monkey chewed tobacco on the streetcar line_

_The line broke_

_The monkey got choked_

_And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat._

_Clap-Clap_

My ears ring painfully with a high-pitched tone, and there is a strange sort of pressure all around me. Almost as if I am under water, which makes no sense because I am standing on land. In my mind's eye, everything moves paradoxically fast and slow. My distorted vision and hearing makes it difficult to navigate my next move. If I even have a next move.

I wish my dad were here to tell me what to do. His brilliant mind would easily calculate a solution. He was always my hero, especially after we lost my mom. He made my world better, and I take a small bit of comfort in the fact that I will probably see him soon.

Why is it that the brightest lights are the ones that always fade away too quickly?

Seeing nothing that will change my current predicament, I once again focus on the gun pointed directly at me. With everything that has happened recently, it seems fitting that I will die at the hands of someone I trusted. I almost laugh at the true irony of the situation.

For a moment, I can't help but marvel at how clearly I can see down the barrel of the gun. As if my eyes can perceive every detail and nuance. I wonder if I will see the bullet or just the flash as it escapes the hole.

The world slows, the clock ticking one excruciating second at a time as I watch the finger wrapped around the trigger curl and tighten.

All is still.

All is quiet.

_BANG!_

Sam falls down in front of me, rolling around in pain. Straining my neck around again, I see several men dressed in black from head to toe filing into the room with assault rifles. I can't tell if they are the good guys or bad guys.

One of them rushes forward, his gun swinging to the side by the shoulder strap as he lets it go. Kneeling in front of me, he quickly unties my legs. I can't see his face through his mask and dark tinted goggles.

"It's okay," he whispers, his voice sounds strangely distorted. I can't tell if it's his mask or my ears. "I'm going to get you out of here. You're safe now." I should be cautious, but for some reason his words calm me.

The commotion continues all around, it's hard to track it. Another man is pointing a gun at Sam, yelling at him to stay down. The others are searching the rooms, yelling out clear from time to time.

"Almost done," the man says, hissing when he sees my mangled wrist bound to the chair. "Check him for a handcuff key," he yells. The tenor sounds familiar, but it's hard to know for sure. Things are so confusing.

"On it." The man with Sam leans over and roughly searches each of his pockets. Sam cries out from time to time, the action probably aggravating his injury. "Here," he yells, throwing a tiny set of keys to the man who catches it seamlessly.

"Get a medic up here," A different man yells, standing next to Sam. I can see his blood staining the immaculate carpet. It makes me smile.

Putting the key in the hole, the man twists my wrist, the searing pain causing me to wince. "Sorry, sorry," he whispers, gently running his gloved finger over the chaffed skin.

Once freed, he pulls me out of the chair. The quick motion combined with my pounding head makes me sway. Before I can protest, he sweeps me into his arms and starts walking towards the door. "Where are you taking me?" I ask, struggling.

His arms tighten, preventing me from escaping. "Somewhere safe."

I should fight harder, but there's something comforting about him, almost familiar. I shake my head telling myself that it's just my imagination.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispers. "Let's go," he bellows to a man behind him.

He rushes around us to lead the way with his gun pointed. Our trip back down the stairs is slow, the man cautiously assessing the area before each step, using hand gestures to motion starting and stopping points. Finally reaching the bottom floor, we move carefully towards the back instead of going out the front.

Pushing the back door open, I see a black SUV with dark tinted windows waiting for us. While the other man sprints to the driver's side, the person holding me somehow manages to open the back door without putting me down or losing his grip. Placing me on the seat, he gently nudges me over until he can get in himself.

"Go!" he snaps as soon as the door clicks shut.

The SUV peels out of the alley, throwing me to the side as it screeches around the corner. Grabbing the seatbelt, I click it quickly. "Where are you taking me?"

"Worried about your safety?" The driver sneers, his voice also weirdly distorted. " _Now_ she's worried."

"Who are you?" The man next to me remains quiet, his body angled towards mine. He's just sitting there staring in my direction.

"You want to know who I am?" The driver asks, ripping off his mask making his face visible in the rearview mirror.

I can't help but smile at the sight. "Ben?" Seeing him immediately eases all my fears. I can tell that he's angry, but at the moment, I don't care. I'm just so relieved to see him. "How…when?"

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Justice? I leave you for a few hours and you pull this crap? You're lucky you're not dead!"

"I realize I don't have much of an argument right now, but I had my reasons."

"She had her reasons," Ben mutters. "You want to add anything here?" he asks, his eyes directed at the man beside me.

Turning, I watch anxiously as the mystery man takes off his mask and goggles. At this point, I didn't think anything else could shock me. I was wrong.

"Edward?"

Reaching forward, he wraps me in a tight hug. "Bella," he whispers, burying his face in my hair. Pulling back, his hands reach up to frame my face. "Don't you ever to that to me again," he growls before crashing his lips into mine.

I don't understand why he is here, but for the first time in days, I finally feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward and Ben? Tune in next week. :)


	14. Chapter 13: Policy of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't do this without my cheerleaders, LostInPA and Beautifulnightmarex! I appreciate them more than words can say. :)

Chapter 13: Policy of Truth

_"It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change."_

_Charles Darwin_

* * *

_"Edward, this isn't like you. I love you and I want to help. Please, don't shut me out. Just call me, I want to—"_

_"Beep… if you are satisfied with your—"_

_Throwing the phone on the bed, I run my fingers through my hair, trying to think of any plausible explanation for Edward's behavior. He's been distant for a while, but nothing compared to the last several days. The conversations we had at the beginning of the week were curt and ended with him making an excuse to get off the phone quickly. Since Wednesday, he's ignored my calls altogether._

_The last time we saw each other was when he showed up at my house for the impromptu beach trip last weekend. I knew he was edgy, and that something was wrong, but I never expected him to leave me out in the cold._

_Picking up the phone, I dial again, feeling defeated when it goes straight to voicemail. "Please, Edward, don't do this," I whisper, not knowing what else to say._

_Today should have been different. It's Friday, which is significant because not once have we missed spending one together. It's like an unspoken pact that no matter how busy things get, this night was ours. I waited anxiously all day for a text or call letting me know about his plans to come over or, at the very least, asking me to meet him somewhere. However, the phone remained terrifyingly silent, and with each passing hour, my hope of things being okay started to dwindle._

_"Damn it, Edward. What are you doing?" Laying on my bed, I burrow into the pillow, unable to stop the tears from falling. I'm not a crier, I'm a problem solver. Still, I'm struggling to find a solution to this, especially when it feels as if he's cutting out a piece of my heart._

_A ping announcing a new text shakes me out of my misery. Holding my breath, I pick up the phone hoping to see a message from him. Instead, I find one from Emmett announcing that he and Alice are outside on my front stoop. My heart pounds as I run downstairs and let their solemn faces through my door._

_"It's Edward isn't it? Something happened to him." Grabbing my coat, I attempt to put my arm through the sleeve, but my shaking fingers prevent me from getting it on smoothly. "Where is he? Which hospital?"_

_"Bella, stop." Emmett rests his hands on my shoulders stopping my movements. "Edward's not hurt."_

_"Then what is it? Something's wrong or else you two wouldn't be_ here _looking like_ that _," I accuse, waving my hand at their faces._

_Neither of them speak. Alice just glances nervously at Emmett, who is focusing on me. The tension builds until the sound of Emmett clearing his throat fractures the silence._

_"He's gone," he says quietly._

_"I don't understand. What do you mean 'gone'?"_

_"He, umm, left San Francisco."_

_"That doesn't make any sense. He wouldn't have left without telling me." I step out of his reach, my pulse beating wildly, a disparaging inner voice reminding me that I've known for days that something changed._

_"He called today and asked me to pack up his apartment. He wants everything sold or donated." Emmett looks at me sadly, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't really understand what's going on, but he wouldn't do this without a good reason. I know he cares about you."_

_Alice turns and glares at him. "Bella…" she falters, apparently not knowing what to say either. Instead, she puts her arm around my shoulders in an attempt to comfort me._

_"Gone." I'm trying to piece together any conversation that would help to make sense of what he's saying. Nothing computes. "No, you're wrong. He wouldn't leave like this, he just wouldn't."_

_Emmett gives me another sympathetic look. "I'm sorry that I'm the one telling you this, but it's the truth." Gathering courage, he pulls a letter from his pocket and holds it out to me. "He wanted me to give this to you."_

_Looking down, I recognize Edward's handwriting immediately, my name crisply scrawled on the front. "If he sent you here, you have to know something, Emmett." I'm afraid to touch it; holding the envelope would make this real._

_"He couldn't tell me a lot, but his biggest concern was you. He gave me strict instructions to deliver this letter and stay with you while you read it. I have no idea what it says, but in case it's bad, I thought you'd want Alice here for extra support."_

_Snatching it out of his hand, I rip open the envelope with a spark of hope. Edward's concern for my wellbeing is a good sign. This has to explain everything. I know Edward loves me, so there's no way he would just leave. We made promises to each other. Pushing back any lingering doubt, I take a deep breath and unfold the paper, everything else fading away as I focus on his words._

Bella,

Have you ever had an epiphany? Where all the things that didn't seem to fit suddenly make sense? It happened to me a few weeks ago. For years, I've been trying to be the person I thought I should be, but it never felt right. My epiphany was realizing that it's not worth it, and the only way to fix things is to make a drastic change. I tried to fight it for you, but trying so hard to make something work really isn't fair to either of us. I'm just not happy.

I was offered an opportunity last night that I couldn't pass up and I've decided just to go for it. In fact, in a few hours, I'll be on a plane. It might be rash and possibly a mistake, but I have to do it. You have every right to hate me for not saying a proper goodbye, but honestly, it wouldn't have changed anything. We just want different things.

I'm sorry. I know those words will mean nothing once you know, but I am. I hope you find happiness. You deserve it. It just can't be with me, and one day you will realize that this was for the best.

Edward

_The paper crumbles before I realize my hand is the one doing it. Every fear I've had over the last few weeks is now painfully real. He doesn't want me anymore. Maybe he never did._

_"I'm sorry, Bella—" Alice starts, still holding me. She must have read the letter too._

_"Please leave," I whisper. The world is caving in around me and I don't want them around to watch it happen._

_"Bella—" Emmett tries, but I cut him off too._

_"I just want to be alone," I bite out, blindly walking to the door and opening it. I refuse to look at them, my emotions too raw to deal with their sympathetic looks._

_"Okay," Alice concedes, understanding me as she always does. "We'll be here when you're ready."_

_"Uh huh," I mutter, watching their feet shuffle out the door. "Thanks." The word sounds robotic even to my own ears._

_Shutting the door, I lean against it, letting the emotions crash over me. Dropping the letter on the floor, I run upstairs to grab my phone. I need to get out of here. Hitting my dad's number, I wait to leave a message to let him know that I'm crashing at his house. I know he won't answer, he told me last week that he has a big fishing trip planned for tonight and tomorrow. However, since he will return late Saturday night, I don't want him surprised when he sees my car._

_"Hey, kid! What's up?"_

_"Dad?" I answer, shocked. "I thought you had the big trip?"_

_"It fell through. What's going on?"_

_Losing control, I slide down the wall next to the bed trying to catch my breath. "I need you."_

_"I'm on my way," he says quickly._

_"No, I want to come there." I can't think in a place where everything reminds me of him._

_"Are you safe to drive?" he asks cautiously._

_Stifling my tears, I try to get it together. "Yes. The drive will give me a chance to think." I need to get distance and figure out what to do next._

_"Okay," he draws out. I can tell he's not convinced. "Bells, I get that you want to think, but it's a little late to start driving. Why don't you book a flight instead, and I'll pick you up at the airport."_

_Glancing at the clock, I realize he's right. There's no way I'd make it all the way there tonight. "Yeah, okay. I'll book a flight on Southwest."_

_"Good."_

_"Thanks, Dad." I don't know what I'd do without him._

_"I love you, Bella. Whatever's going on, we'll solve it."_

_"I love you too." Hanging up, I throw together an overnight bag and then run downstairs to book a flight._

_Walking out of my house, I feel a hardening resolve wash over me. No matter how on edge my emotions are, I refuse to lose it in public. I just need to get through this plane ride, and then I can fall apart with my dad._ _I know he will help; he always knows what to do._

* * *

For a moment, I succumb to the pleasure of Edward's lips and drown in his comfort before my mind reminds me of the complicated reality of our unresolved relationship.

"Wait," I whisper, reluctantly pulling away. "I don't understand."

"I'll explain everything, I promise, but right now, I'm worried about you. Are you okay?" He gently lifts my chin and scans my face. I can't stop from wincing when his fingers glide over the cheek that took the brunt of Sam's assault. "Sorry," he whispers, wincing right along with me.

"It's okay," I murmur, still trying to comprehend that he's here.

"You're cut," he notes, a fire lighting behind his solemn eyes. "God damn it, Ben. I told you that she was too close to the window!"

"Hey, man, don't growl at me. Given our choices, it was the best option. You would have done the same thing in any other situation." He quickly eyes Edward through the mirror. "This is exactly why you should have sat this one out. You're too fucking close."

I'm entranced, not only by the content of their dialog, but their apparent familiarity. It gives off the impression that they've known each other a while. My head spins at the thought. There's so much I want to ask, but I can't seem to form the words.

"Drop it, Cheney. I told you before I'm not staying out of this." Edward rebukes. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he looks over the back seat and under his chair. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"Hold on." Ben reaches over to the glove compartment and grabs a blue plastic box. "Here you go."

I feel numb, sure that at any moment I'm going to wake up from this bizarre dream.

"Let's get you fixed up." Edward opens the box, pulling out ointment and gauze. Assessing me again, he takes the gauze and pats several spots on my face. "I don't think you'll need stitches, but you're pretty scratched up."

"Oh." I knew the glass cut me, but in all the craziness, I had honestly forgotten.

Edward looks at me with worried eyes. "They should heal fairly quickly." Taking out a cold pack, he pulls and shakes it, engaging the cooling chemicals before laying it carefully on my cheek. "Here, keep that there."

Lifting my hand, I reach up to hold it only to find his hand instead. His fingers link with mine, a comforting hum running down my arm. Caught in a haze, I sense our bodies gravitating closer until he quickly pulls back, and with one final squeeze, removes his hand. "Better?" he asks, clearing his throat.

The cold feels good, effectively dulling my throbbing cheek. "Yes, thank you."

Edward gives me a tight smile, his eyes pensive. "Now, let's take care of your wrist."

Picking up my hand, he cringes at the red and mangled flesh, the metal cuff unforgiving in my continuous twisting and pulling. Taking the ointment out, he gently rubs it around my wrist before wrapping it completely in gauze.

"What happened to Sam?" I ask, realizing that I don't know the seriousness of his wounds. "Is he dead?"

I catch Ben casting a cautious look in Edward's direction, the two locked in a moment of silent communication. "Umm, no. It wasn't a fatal shot," Ben answers.

"Oh." I don't know how to feel about his survival. Pictures of his blood staining the carpet flash in my mind. A part of me wishes he were dead, especially because of what he did to Charlie. The world shifts as the impact of his confession unexpectedly rushes back. "Dad," I choke. The pain is overwhelming.

"What?" Edward leans down to catch me eye.

It's hot, stifling hot, and I can't catch my breath. He did it. Sam did it.

"Bella?"

Suddenly, I'm caught in a riptide of emotions, overwhelming me and pulling me under. The reality of everything hits all at once. It's too much.

Edward grabs the sides of my head. "Talk to me, Bella."

"He d-did i-it," I sputter.

"Who did what?"

"Sam killed him. He killed him!"

Edward's eyes widen, his hold tightening. "Charlie? _Sam_ killed Charlie?"

"Son of a bitch," Ben shouts, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

"He told me like it was nothing. He took everything from me, and he said it like it was nothing." Months of trying to hold on, to keep it all together, crumbles.

"Oh, baby." Edward swiftly pulls me into his embrace. "I'm sorry." I latch onto him like a lifeline, expelling the built up poison from my soul. "I've got you," he whispers, his lips resting against my temple. "And I'm not letting go."

Time blurs as I sit wrapped in Edward's arms. His hand stroking my back until there are no more tears to shed, his vest wet and stained. Drained, I release my grip enough to scoot back, trying to regain some composure.

"What's going to happen to him?" I ask quietly.

Releasing his hold, Edward moves his arms from around my back and grabs one of my hands, linking our fingers together tightly. "He'll be treated and then sent to a holding cell," he answers warily, most likely troubled by my uncharacteristic outburst.

Trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, I allow the possibilities of next steps to run through my mind, my prosecutor side taking charge. "Seattle PD needs to know about his confession so that premeditated murder can be included on his list of charges. Murdering a police officer and the fact that he's a federal agent with resources should be enough to convince a judge to hold him without bail."

"He's not with the Seattle PD," Ben replies.

Pulling out of Edward's grasp completely, I lean forward. "What the hell are you talking about? He has to pay!"

"Bella, calm down," Edward soothes, trying to get my attention. "He's going to answer for what he did to Charlie, I promise you. But there's a bigger picture to consider right now."

"I don't understand. You said he's going to a holding cell. If he's not with the PD then where is he?"

"He's being held with Diego. Believe me, Sam's not going anywhere," Ben snaps.

"Diego…" I trail off, grasping at all the pieces.

Jasper's voice echoes in my ears. _"Yeah, it was definitely the CIA that took over. They're holding him under the Patriot Act, and from what I can tell, there's no trial date set for arraignment."_

"The CIA has him." I state, looking suspiciously between the two men.

"Yes," Edward responds guardedly. He's smart enough to realize that his affirmative answer also confirms his unspoken involvement.

The stark reality of Edward and Ben's profession is hard to deny considering they just stormed to my rescue. However, until I feel on more solid ground with my emotions, I decide to divert the topic towards safer waters instead. "And Alec?"

"Is that the other guy?" Ben asks.

Edward continues to watch me closely. "Yeah. He's that one that attacked us in the alley."

"I fucking knew it." Edward sits back roughly, his fist pounding into the cushion. "We didn't have a clear view of his face, but I thought I recognized that bastard's voice."

"I know what you mean. I'll never forget it." My hand automatically moves towards my neck, the sensation of his hands still lingering there. "Is he going to a holding cell too?"

Once again, Edward and Ben share a communicative glance. "We don't know. I swear that guy moves like smoke. There was no sign of him when we went in," Ben answers, frustration punctuating his words.

"How can that be? He stumbled out the door right before you came in."

"I say he's still in that fucking building. We had the place surrounded," Edward snarls.

"If he is then the team will find him. They were searching the place from top to bottom when we lost radio contact."

"So it's possible that he's already in custody?" I ask, teetering on a thin edge of hope.

"It's possible," Ben exhales. "I'll find out for sure as soon as we stop."

"Where are we going?" I ask, realizing that we're no longer on the freeway, but a desolate looking road. I must have been out of it longer than I thought.

"A safe house." Edward glances out the side window, his arm unconsciously stretching between us until his fingers ghost against mine. As soon as they make contact, he ruefully pulls back, tightening his fist.

"Because of Sam?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation on manageable topics, the magnetism of Edward's touch definitely not fitting into that category.

"Because of Sam. Because of Riley. Hell, because of Edward," Ben affirms. "We need a place to talk without compromising him."

"Comprising him," I repeat, the words heavy in my mouth. "Yeah, okay."

Focusing my attention on the scenery outside the window, I watch as we turn into what looks like a driveway. Similar to Ben's cabin, it's long and winding, probably a strategic move to stay hidden from the public road. The house is an older, two-story farmhouse surrounded by a wide porch. To the left of the door is a swing and several potted plants that look like they've seen better days.

Pulling up behind the detached garage to the right of the house, Ben shuts off the car and steps out. I barely have a chance to undo my seatbelt before the door swings open and Ben lifts me out of the car, holding me in a tight embrace.

Setting me down, he gives me a stern look. "I'm still pissed at you, Justice, but damn am I glad that you're alive. You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," I murmur, hanging my head in embarrassment. I knew he would be angry, but I never expected the chaos of earlier.

Swinging his arm around my shoulders, he starts walking us towards the door. "All I can say is that it's a good thing I love you."

"That is a good thing," I whisper halfheartedly.

It's hard to engage in our typical banter when his involvement in this debacle is still unknown. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Edward following closely behind with two large bags slung over his shoulder. Until I hear the truth of how those two ended up together, I don't plan to let my guard down.

Unlocking the door, Ben motions for me to go in. Stepping inside, I automatically shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. The house is almost colder inside than it is outside. Switching on a light, I can tell that no one has been in here for a while. The blinds are drawn shut on all the windows and dusty white sheets cover every piece of furniture.

"Home sweet home," Ben calls entering behind me. Walking into the living room, he clicks on a thermostat on the wall. Shortly after, the loud clanging of pipes long-neglected come to life followed by the dusty smell of an old heating vent.

Edward lightly squeezes my shoulder when he passes by before walking over to the nearest couch and dropping the bags, a cloud of dust wafting up as soon as they hit. Relieved of his load, he immediately turns towards Ben, a look of determination crossing his face. Unaware of the looming threat, Ben moves away from the thermostat and right into Edward's swinging fist.

Caught off guard, he falls back against the wall holding his chin. "What the hell!"

"That's for not telling me about her dad," Edward seethes.

Ben lifts up both hands in submission. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"No, I don't think you do. According to my count, I owe you at least one more for not telling me that she was prosecuting Riley."

"Edward, we've already talked about this, there's protocol to follow. You know that," Ben argues, still rubbing his chin but not making a move to retaliate.

"Screw protocol! You were supposed to be my friend!"

Ben quickly pushes off the wall and stands in Edward's space, both men puffing out their chests. Fascinated by the dynamic, I stand quietly, using their interaction to glean any pieces of information that may shed some light on their history.

"And that's what I was being! What would you have done if you had known, Edward? Run off? Lose your focus and get yourself killed? How would that have helped anyone?"

Edward looks taken back by his words. "I had a right to know."

"No, you had a responsibility to stay alive. I was watching her, like _you_ asked. My job was to keep her safe. Your job was to come back to her alive."

Edward steps back, scrubbing his face with his hands. "You should have told me," he maintains, although the fervor behind his words are gone. "If I had known, I…" he trails off, turning his back on Ben and dropping his head.

"If you had known, what?" I blurt out, finally finding my voice. "I would love to know what you would have done, especially considering that you two have apparently been interfering in my life for God knows how long."

"Bella—" Edward starts.

"Don't 'Bella' me. Just what the hell kind of game is this anyway?"

"It's not a game," Ben asserts. "I promised to help a friend, and I gained an amazing one in the process. Nothing about this is a game."

"How am I supposed to trust anything either of you say?" I quickly look towards the ceiling when their faces blur, trying to keep the tears from falling again. I'm sick of crying.

"Just let me…" Edward steps forward, but before he can get far, Ben steps in between and raises his hand to stop him.

"I think we all need to take a breath. We obviously have a lot to talk about, but let's get settled and out of this gear first," he requests, unstrapping his vest. "Then we can answer _all_ of your questions." He glances at Edward with another meaningful look. The two seem to talk as much without words than with them. It's starting to grate on my nerves.

"I don't want to wait," I stress, crossing my arms.

"Bella, I understand you're confused, but trust me when I say that Edward and I have your best interest at heart. We always have."

In the almost three years I've known Ben, he's never let me down. I'm pissed, but I want to believe him. "No more secrets or lies," I demand, looking directly at Edward. He knows that he's skirted around what happened ever since he came back. "You either come straight now or I'm done."

"The truth," he declares, taking a half step forward, his stare piercing. "There's nothing stopping me from telling you anymore." He looks back towards Ben, continuing their silent conversation.

Nodding my head, I watch as they strip out of their gear. With practiced efficiency, they carefully take off their vests, belts, and various personal weapons. Once again, I am left fascinated by the scene and the ease at which they do it. Pulling back the sheets off the furniture, Ben finally sits, motioning me to do the same. Taking the chair in the far corner, I wait, watching as Edward paces beside the couch. The awkwardness is impossible to avoid with the proverbial elephant standing in the room mocking us.

Edward rubs his neck, the nervousness radiating from his body. "I'm not sure where to start," he blurts out.

"How about from the beginning. Why did you leave?"

"Cutting right to the chase. Classic move," Ben sarcastically jumps in, using his natural tendency towards humor to try to defuse the situation.

"Not helping," Edward hisses before focusing back on the issue at hand. "What I told you several days ago was true."

"But not the whole story," I point out.

"Yes, not the whole story." Studying the floor, he places his hands on his hips. "I always wanted to do something important with my life and get as far away from my Grandfather's legacy as possible."

"I remember," I say slowly, keenly aware that he still took over the company anyway.

"I guess there was always a part of me that was drawn to law enforcement, and that interest only grew as I got older. But, I knew that my grandfather would never approve, so I hid it. I truly believe that for the most part, he had no clue what I was doing."

"Until you moved to San Francisco," I clarify, remembering what he said about his Grandfather's assumptions about my influence.

"Yes. By then I didn't care if he knew. That was my first mistake." Edward pauses rubbing his neck again.

"How long have you worked in the field?" I ask, trying to keep him talking.

"It's not as simple as that—" Edward quickly lifts his hand when he sees my reaction to his vague words. "I'm not trying to sensor things, I promise. It's just more complicated than that."

"I think I can keep up."

"I know, it's just…"

"It's just?" I repeat angrily. I want him to be straight with me, I've waited long enough.

"He's scared," Ben counters. "You have to know that you're his whole world, Bella. And this is kind of a make it or break it conversation. Give the guy just a little leeway."

"I think that I deserve—"

"The truth," Ben interrupts. "Absolutely and that's why we are here, just a little leeway. He's a good guy." He glances back at Edward who looks annoyed by his plea. In return, Ben leans back against the couch defensively. "Suck it up, Cullen. I'm not trying to take over. The floor is still yours."

Ignoring their strange interaction, I focus on Edward. "You were saying?"

With one final glare in Ben's direction, he turns back to me. "When I was nearing the end of college, I started applying to several agencies, but the one that intrigued me the most was the CIA."

"Action, travel, and adventure. It has it all," Ben comments with a smirk. "It's what attracted me as well."

"You're both CIA," I allege, confirming my unspoken assumptions. "You've been CIA this whole time?" My eyes narrow, remembering all the conversations we had about finalizing his career with the PD. He played me for a fool.

"No!" Edward proclaims. "I applied and went through their training before I moved to San Francisco. That's actually where I met Ben."

"We were in the same class," Ben adds. "The CIA is full of ego driven assholes. It was nice to meet someone who was normal."

"How sweet for the two of you," I spit out sarcastically. They obviously share a close bond, but it's hard to appreciate it in the midst of my current confusion. "If you weren't CIA when we met, what were you?"

"I was just me," Edward whispers, shrugging his shoulders. "I was still in the final stages of the hiring process when I moved. I had planned to set up my home base in San Francisco, knowing that most of my time would be spent traveling."

"So what changed?"

"I got a call one day from the training director. He said it wasn't going to work out and that they decided to withdraw my employment. Suddenly, I was left with nothing."

"Why did they reject you?"

"At the time, I had no idea. That was," he looks up with a small smile, "that was the day I met you."

"The job," I whisper, remembering the night in the park.

"Yes. I wasn't lying when I said that I was happy it didn't work out."

Relief floods my body seeing the sincerity in his eyes, a part of me needing to know that not everything was a farce. "But you ended up becoming an agent anyway. What changed?"

"What I know now is that they pulled my application because of my grandfather. The director was suspicious of my intentions. So instead of employing me, they started watching me."

"To see if you were involved with any criminal activities like your Grandfather," I surmise.

"Exactly. Once they realized I wasn't, their plans changed."

"The CIA is nothing if not strategic," Ben comments cryptically. For a current employee, he sounds extremely bitter. Catching my confused look, he clarifies. "Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but I have no delusions about their games."

"Games are right," Edward sneers. "When they got intel about my Grandfather's impending death, they approached me with an offer."

"Offer, my ass. They gave you an ultimatum," Ben scoffs.

"Ultimatum?" I question.

"The agents assigned to follow me were the ones who first approached me with an offer. When I told them I wasn't interested, they showed me proof that my grandfather was having you followed." Edward starts to pace again, flexing his fists. "The creeps he paid…the pictures. Their information made it pretty clear that as long as we were together, you were a target."

"Why not just tell me then?"

"The CIA." Edward offhandedly throws out the name as if I should instinctively know how they played a role in his deception. "They wanted me to work undercover for them."

"The plan was ingenious really," Ben says. "He 'crawls' back to his grandfather on his death bed, just in time to take over the company. Instant inside information to several high profile crime syndicates."

"Yeah, I get that part. What I don't get is why not tell me."

"Protocol," Ben declares.

"Why would the CIA care if I knew?"

"Most of the field positions in the CIA are considered classified," Edward clarifies. "If I took their 'offer', they promised to protect you, but I wasn't allowed to say anything."

Deep down, I know what he's saying is true. It's one of the reasons I hate prosecuting CIA cases. Everything is cloak and daggers, which makes presenting evidence a nightmare. However, the wound of his betrayal makes it difficult to care about the logic behind his actions.

"They couldn't have watched you every minute. You could have found a way. You could have trusted me," I argue.

Edward laughs bitterly. "That's what I thought. I was going to tell you that night on the beach, but then I noticed someone standing in the shadows. The bitch of it was that I didn't know if it was them or my grandfather's people. I decided right then that the best thing I could do was leave."

"You started to ignore me. I didn't understand why." The sudden change in his demeanor is still one of the most painful aspects of him leaving.

Edward takes a step before stopping, his body rigid. "It killed me," he whispers. "Every time you called, I wanted to pick up and tell you what was going on. Some days, I'd imagine the two of us just running away from everything, but I'd already signed the contract. So, at that point, there was no way out."

"The letter?" I ask, masochistically wanting more details.

"I knew I couldn't tell you in person. I couldn't look at you and lie…" Edward looks past me, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "I was purposefully cruel with my words. I wanted you to hate me as much as I hated myself." Edward falls into a chair, leaning over to hold his head. "I hated hurting you. My only consolation was that I'd hoped it would help you to forget about me quicker."

It's hard not to react to his pain, my emotions swinging between wanting to comfort him and wanting to lash out at his self-righteous distortions. Instead of reacting to either, I logically keep us moving forward. "You said before that you didn't plan on coming back. What did you mean?"

Keeping is head down, he pauses to release a quivering breath before answering. "My grandfather took everything from me, so I was prepared to take him out at all cost. After leaving you, I had nothing left to lose."

"You thought you'd be killed?" I choke, the thought constricting my heart.

"Yeah." He looks up with watery eyes. "And the last thing I did before I left was make sure you would be taken care of when it happened."

"I don't understand."

"I made a trip to your dad's," he confesses, his hands twisting.

"What are you talking about?"

"I couldn't tell him specifics, but he figured out the gist. I asked him to be there for you."

"My dad knew…" I close my eyes and rub my temples, hoping to ease the pain. It hurts knowing that everyone I've trusted has somehow betrayed me.

"Bella," Edward says, trying to pull me from my desolate thoughts. "Listen to me. He didn't know any details, but he was smart enough to figure out that I had no choice."

"And he accepted that?"

Edward huffs. "Hardly. I had a swollen jaw for over a week," he shakes his head, a small smile breaking free. "I made sure he would get the notification of my death and a copy of my will. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of, but I also didn't want my death to disrupt your life. I figured your dad would know how to best approach letting you know."

"Wow, I don't even know how to respond…I—" The words leave me as I try to wrap my brain around his dark confession.

"I don't expect you to understand it all at once. Hell, I've lived it and I don't always understand my choices," Edward spits out bitterly, running his hand through his hair.

"What changed?" I ask, remembering our previous conversation.

"What?" Edward asks, looking up confused.

"You said a few nights ago, that at some point you decided to come back. Why?"

Edward shifts his eyes towards Ben. "Ben helped me to pull my head out of my ass and realize that I shouldn't give up on us, or me, that easily. Like everyone else, you charmed the hell out of him. Right after he met you he made sure to let me know how big of an ass I was."

"Huh." Turning towards Ben, I narrow my focus on him. "How exactly _did_ you get involved in all of this?"

"I was Edward's bargaining chip," he offers with a smile.

"Excuse me?"

"I was giving up my life for their mission," Edward answers for Ben. "I used that to make some demands of my own. One of them was that Cheney here would be my handler."

"A handler is who you communicate with, right?"

"Right. I was his connection to the CIA," Ben says. "What the CIA didn't know is that Edward asked me to watch over you too."

"I wasn't going to trust your safety to the CIA, not after they used it as a bargaining chip of their own. Ben was the only one I'd entrust with your life."

"I thought you were a friend of Paul's?" I turn back towards Ben.

"That took some work," Ben admits. "At first, I was just going to watch from afar and put in some protective measures for when I had to go out of town on a case, but when things started heating up with Edward, we realized I needed to be closer."

"So Paul knows too?" I ask incredulously.

"No, he thinks I'm a private investigator. That's it," Ben maintains making a crossing motion over his heart. "One night I followed you to the Fillmore and overheard him talking about wanting to get revenge on the people who killed his sister."

"That doesn't sound like him," I whisper.

"It was right after the trial, so he was in a pretty dark place. I used that to my advantage. I knew he was fond of you. All I needed was an introduction. So, I told him that I was an investigator and could help him."

"Did you actually get him information?" My concern for Paul overrides my thoughts for a moment. "No, I convinced him to let it go. He almost lost it one night, but thankfully I was there to bring him back from the edge."

"That's why he trusts you so much," I articulate, gaining a better understanding of their relationship.

"Yes, but not enough to give me an introduction," Ben jeers. "That guy is really protective of you, and he knew you were going through something. I finally got an in when I overheard him talking to Emmett about a case you were struggling with and how he wished there was something he could do to help. After Emmett left, I reminded him of my skills and convinced him to give you my number."

"And the rest is history," I comment, remembering that first phone call.

"Yup," he smiles. "Regardless of the shitty circumstances, I'm glad we met. You've become an important person to me."

Although I appreciate his sentiments, I don't respond. I'm still trying process all of the information. I don't know how to feel about any of this. I see, and can even somewhat understand their good intentions. Yet it doesn't change how badly Edward hurt me, or that my relationship with Ben was based on lies.

"Bella?" Edward asks cautiously. "I know it's a lot to take, but—"

"What happened today?" I ask, cutting him off. I need some time before I decide how to deal with the reality of what happened.

"You mean how did we find you?" Ben clarifies. "I had some people assigned to watch Sam. Edward and I agreed that something was off about him."

"The way he looked at you…" Edward suddenly stops, his eyes stormy.

"Right after you left, he went off the map. They lost him completely," Ben jumps in, glancing at Edward with a shake of his head. "While at the same time, Riley was making sure that he was seen around town. A typical move when something big is going down because—"

"It gives him an alibi," I finish.

"I just had this feeling that whatever he was planning involved you," Edward says.

"As soon as Edward called, I dropped my other case and hauled ass to get back to you." Ben's face turns into a frown. "You can imagine my surprise when all I found was a note."

"Do you know how stupid that was, Bella?" Edward reprimands. "What were you thinking going off on your own like that?"

"I was thinking that I was running out of time. Did you know that Garrett was getting ready to charge Riley with bribing my dad?" I yell. "I couldn't let that happen. And then Alec sent me those pictures."

"What pictures?" Edward hisses, his eyes narrowing.

In all the confusion, I had forgotten that no one but me knew about those. "Alec sent me an e-mail, trying to get me to come out of hiding. He attached surveillance photos of Jasper, Alice, Rose, and Emmett. He basically threatened to get to them if I didn't come back."

"Son of a bitch!" Ben shouts. "And even with that you thought it was a good idea to leave?"

"I tried to call!" I shout, defending myself. "Besides, all I was going to do was look around and wait for you. Then Sam showed up and…well, you know." There was no point in recounting what we just went through.

" _Well_ , lucky for you, we have the resources to put together a rescue mission quickly," Ben mocks. "As soon as I found the note, I called Edward to set up a strike team to prepare for the worst."

"If we had gotten there a few minutes later," Edward shudders. "You can't do that to me again. If something would have happened to you, I don't know what I would have done." His face swiftly morphs, the rage almost tangible.

"I think you released the beast," Ben teases in an attempt to relieve the tension. "Riley's not going to know what hit him."

"Exactly what is the deal with you and Riley?" I ask, realizing that hasn't been explained yet.

"He was my next target," Edward answers. "Actually, my last target."

"Last?"

"When I found out that I was coming back to San Francisco, I told the CIA that Riley was my last case. I had done more than enough for them. I wanted to come back home." His words linger in the room, an unspoken declaration behind them.

"Oh," His anger about the DOJ prosecuting Riley makes more sense. Our two worlds weren't supposed to intersect. "It hurt when you didn't let me know you were back," I admit, remembering the shock of seeing him.

"You have no idea how hard it was not to call you as soon as I got off the plane. But as much as I wanted to go to you, I knew I couldn't until the case was over. As long as I was still undercover, I couldn't explain things. My plan was to stay away until then, but that didn't work out so well."

"The concert."

"Fucking Emmett," he smirks repeating his words from a few days ago. "I've never been happier and more terrified in my entire life. Once I saw you, talked to you…I just couldn't stay away. And then everything went to hell."

The sound of a ringing landline breaks through the tension of Edward's story. "Shit, that must be HQ. I'll get it." Ben jumps up and rushes towards the kitchen to answer the phone.

"Bella," Edward whispers, standing to walk closer to me. "I know this is a lot to take in, but you have to believe that every choice I made was for you. I know I hurt you, and I can't take that back, but I hope that maybe you can understand and one day forgive me."

"I don't know what to think right now," I answer honestly. "I need some time to process everything."

"Of course," Edward whispers, the hope in his eyes dimming.

"There is just so much going on with Sam and Riley. I can't let what Sam did go, and I don't want Riley to get off either. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have occurred in the first place. I can't be distracted from that right now."

"What do you want to do?" Edward asks.

"I want to get them. I want to get them all," I declare, the anger burning from within.

"Well, it looks like you're going to get your chance," Ben's voice rings out as he walks back into the room.

"What's going on?" Edward asks.

"Alec, the little bastard, escaped. They found a tunnel that leads to the neighboring building. Best they can figure, he was able to get to it before we got to the second floor."

"God damn it!" Edward roars. "What now?"

"HQ wants you back in San Francisco playing the role of Global's CEO. We need to turn up the heat on Mr. Riley Biers, which means we have some major planning to do. It's time to checkmate this chess game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, the game picks up speed. :)


	15. Chapter 14: Matter of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LostInPA is amazing, I don't know what I would do without her. She was a lifesaver this week with helping me to figure out the ending of this one. :) Beautifulnightmarex always keeps me in check in the best possible way, she is awesome!
> 
> Important: This chapter contains discussions of suicidal ideation.

Chapter 14: Matter of Trust

_"You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it's better to listen to what it has to say."_

_Paulo Coelho_

* * *

_The morning sun streams through the window highlighting the unique colors in Edward's hair. This is the laziest Saturday we've had in a while. These days, it's a rare occurrence when our calendars are clear at the same time._

_Putting my case file and notepad on my lap, I take a moment to breathe in the visual. Edward is sitting back against the headboard shirtless, wearing light blue pajama pants. Even with his face pinched in concentration, he makes my heart flutter._

_He's reading the latest manual from his criminal justice class. He's done exceptionally well in the academy, although he'll never admit it. Emmett told me that the instructors took notice right away. Setting my file to the side, I turn towards him deciding to have a little fun with the fact that he has interviews this week._

_"So, Mr. Cullen, why do you want to be a police officer?" With a stern face, I hold my pen to a notepad awaiting his answer._

_Edward looks over with confusion "What?"_

_"Come on, I'm trying to help you prepare for your interviews."_

_He bursts into laugher. "This isn't a pageant, Bella. I think their questions will be a little more specific."_

_"I don't think that's an appropriate answer, Mr. Cullen."_

_"Really?" he leans over, forcing me back against the headboard._

_"It's not fair to intimidate the judges," I reprimand, trying to give him a fearsome look._

_"Okay, no intimidating." He moves closer, making my entire body tingle. His lips caress my cheek, moving slowly towards my neck. "What about this?"_

_Swallowing, I force myself to ignore my pleading body. "I would say this falls under a different form of inappropriate behavior. Not to mention, a little bit awkward if your panel is full of heterosexual males."_

_With one final nibble, he pulls back flashing a brilliant smile. "What do you expect when you catch me off guard? You leave me with no choice but to rely on all of my charms."_

_"And charm is definitely one of your top qualities, Mr. Cullen." I scoot forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "But seriously, why a police officer? You've never really told me."_

_Edward pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering to massage my scalp. "Umm, I guess I want to make a difference."_

_I smile, warmed by the familiar words. "My dad says the same thing."_

_"That's a huge compliment. Your dad is an amazing person." Pausing, his eyes become dark and contemplative. "Everyone in my grandfather's circle is self-serving and greedy. They'd crush anyone to get what they want, and most of those people don't have the means or power to fight back. Someone needs to speak for them. I decided a long time ago that I want to be a part of the solution not the problem."_

_"A lot of people would choose the easier route."_

_"I couldn't do that. It goes against everything I believe in. I just…" He pauses again, staring at the wall behind me._

_"What?"_

_He takes a breath, struggling to answer. "I guess it feels like I need to do this."_

_"You make it sound like you have something to make up for." I know his family is a painful subject and one he often avoids, but this sounds different._

_"I think deep down I'm afraid that I will eventually become him."_

_Surprised by his response, I sit up straighter, tightening my arms around him. "I don't know a lot about your grandfather, but from everything you said, I find it hard to believe that you would ever become him."_

_He smiles sadly, leaning forward to brush my lips with his own. "I'm glad you think so, but I know from experience that sometimes, that world can trap people whether they want it or not."_

_"You mean your mom?"_

_"I guess."_

_"Her choices are not your responsibility, Edward."_

_Shaking his head, I watch his face transform, covering the hidden pain with a crooked smile. "I don't know what I'm saying. I think I'm just brain dead from reading all this stuff. The past doesn't really matter because I'm out from under my family's thumb. Most importantly, I'm here with you. What more could I want?"_

_"The future's so bright," I say melodically, helping to distract him. He'll share more when he's ready, and I'll be here for him when he does._

_"I've got to wear shades." He laughs, taking us both down. "You're such a dork."_

_"But I'm your dork," I proclaim, giving him a sly smile._

_"Always."_

* * *

"Alec, the little bastard, escaped. They found a tunnel that leads to the neighboring building. Best they can figure, he was able to get to it before we got to the second floor."

"God damn it!" Edward roars. "What now?"

"HQ wants you back in San Francisco playing the role of Global's CEO. We need to turn up the heat on Mr. Riley Biers, which means we have some major planning to do. It's time to checkmate this chess game."

Edward's eyes darken at Ben's statement, and it makes me wonder whether he still has the same beliefs about law enforcement as he did on that lazy morning so long ago. The memory of the conversation somehow feels different, almost critical, especially now that I understand more of the history behind his fears.

The room remains silent as the tension that was lingering between Edward and I shifts towards Ben. Finally, Edward breaks the standoff. "No. I'm not ready to go back."

"You know the deal, Edward. You don't have a choice. We can't wait to act."

Edward abruptly stalks forward. "I'll do what is needed, like I always do, but…" His eyes shift back to me. "I need more time."

"Alec escaped?" I ask, the reality of his words hitting me. "He escaped again?" I unconsciously glance around, my spine tingling at the thought of him still watching me. Jumping up, I run to the door irrationally checking the lock.

"Bella?" Edward asks, trailing behind me.

After double-checking the lock, I secure the thick blinds, happy for their presence, cobwebs and all. "He could have followed us."

"Bella." I feel Edward's hand slide around my shoulders, squeezing gently before pulling me back against his chest. "He didn't follow us."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, baby, we're sure."

"We have people watching our back. No one followed us here," Ben adds confidently.

Twisting out of Edward's grasp, I turn to face them. "But you don't know where he is?"

Edward regards me sadly. "Not right now, but we'll find him."

"Like last time?" I sneer, walking back to the living room before he can answer.

"I give you that he's a slippery one, but we will find him. I'll bet my life on it."

Sitting heavily on the sofa, I feel too defeated to challenge the insensitive nature of his words. He knows how much I've already lost. "Don't say that." Leaning over, I drag my hands through my hair trying to make sense of everything.

Feeling the couch dip, I glance over as Ben reaches around to pull me into a sideways hug. Still angry, I want to fight against his comfort, but I'm finding it hard. "I know you're still trying to catch up, but we have a small window of time to bring them down. We need to act soon."

"She's not a fucking agent, Cheney, don't put that on her," Edward hisses, standing a few feet away.

"But she's tough, and she wants to end this just as much as you, if not more," he counters, squeezing my shoulder. "It's too late to leave her out of this completely."

Edward's nostrils flare, the two once again embroiled in a silent conversation. "There's a difference between knowing things and doing things," he breathes through clenched teeth.

Ben's right, I want justice for my dad more than anything else, which means I need to pull it together. If I've learned anything over the last couple of years, it is to trust Ben's instinct. Regardless of my irritation towards him for keeping me in the dark, if he's saying that we need to act now, I need to listen.

"He's right, we don't have time to waste," I assert. Ben gives me a wry smile. "Where do we start?"

Edward shakes his head. "No, Bella. There's no 'we'. I'll go back, but you're staying here."

"I realize that it looks like I'm not dealing with things very well, but I can do this. You can't expect me to sit back and do nothing." The truth is, the thought of going back twists my stomach, but it's worth the risk. My dad would have done the same for me.

"Bella," Edward takes a step forward. "You've handled things better than most would in your situation. This has nothing to do with your ability, it's just too dangerous."

"I can help," I argue, sitting taller. "Besides, it's not your decision to make."

His mouth opens and shuts a few times. I know he wants to argue, but he's trying to censor his reaction in an effort to remain in my good graces. Sadly, I feel no shame using his delicate dance to my advantage if it gets me what I want.

"Okay, let's calm down," Ben interjects, getting off the couch to stand between us. "She's not wrong." I smile in victory, watching Edward's face sour. "But…" Ben looks directly at me, "neither is Edward. We need to play this smart."

"I can play it smart." Both regard me with a skeptical look. "Granted, today isn't the best example of that, but I can do whatever needs to be done. I want in."

"There's nothing for you to get 'in' on," Edward says. "I'm the one undercover, the work falls on me."

"I don't know if that's necessarily true," Ben declares. I've seen that look before; he's coming up with a plan.

"What are you talking about? She's off his case. There's nothing for her to do."

"I think her presence alone would be enough to rattle Riley."

"You can't be serious! Alec has probably already told him what happened. Bella just became number one on his radar. How is flaunting her in his face going to help anything?"

"But that's exactly why it's going to help. Think about it. If she goes back to San Francisco acting as if nothing happened, it will drive him crazy trying to figure out what she's up to."

"Until he kills her," Edward growls.

"I won't let that happen," Ben proclaims, his shoulders straightening.

"How do you plan to do that?" Edward bites out. "It's not like you're in a position to be around her twenty-four hours a day."

"I could be," he quickly counters. "He wouldn't touch her, man, I swear."

"What do you mean you could be around me?" I jump in, tired of them making decisions for me. They need to realize that this is my life. "Except for Paul, no one knows about you."

"And we can use that to our advantage. I'll just come back with you. Who knows maybe we met and had a secret rendezvous during your impulsive trip," he winks.

"Are you kidding me?" Edward waves his arms in frustration before pitching the bridge of his nose.

Ignoring Edward's objection, Ben continues to throw out ideas. "Or I'm an old friend and we unexpectedly ran into each other."

"Um, maybe." My mind tries to piece together a plausible back-story.

"Your friends are never going to go for either one of those, Bella." Edward disputes, shifting his body from side to side.

"It's not my friends I need to convince, Edward," I point out. "I think Sam's involvement changes everything in regards to the FBI and the DOJ's cases."

"That's not exactly true, Bella. The FBI and DOJ are clueless about Sam," Ben cautions.

"How can that be?"

"That was a CIA funded mission," Edward answers. "No other agencies were notified, and the specifics of what went down will be classified."

"But Sam is FBI. Don't you _have_ to say something?"

"In due time," Ben retorts. "This is a critical juncture and we need the upper hand. Being the only ones aware of Sam gives us that."

"He's not the only mole in the field. There is no telling where else the leaks could come from," Edward adds.

"Someone is going to miss him though," I rationalize.

"Of course, and when that happens the feds will pull out all the stops to find him, which will make Riley very nervous," Ben smiles again. "In fact, your visibility feeds very nicely into this plan."

"Bella is not an object for the CIA to manipulate," Edward snarls.

"I'm going to let that inference slide since we've had a shit day," Ben snarls back. "You know damn well that I don't see her as an object. You need to step back and look at this logically for a second."

"I'm listening," Edward says lowly, crossing his arms.

"Like you said, Alec has probably reported what happened, so Riley knows that someone busted in on Sam. The fact that the Feds don't have clue is going to throw him. Then you add Bella to the mix, acting as if Seattle never happened…he's going to lose his freaking mind trying to figure it out."

"He's right," I add. "Riley loves control. Not knowing who rescued me combined with not getting the reaction he's expecting will drive him nuts."

"Exactly," Ben chimes in with a smile. "He'll be so fucking distracted trying to figure out what game is being played that the door will be wide open for Edward to make gains on his territory through Global. Once his world starts crumbling, it's only a matter of time before he makes a mistake, and that's when we go in for the kill."

I watch as Edward begrudgingly processes the plan. Logically, it's hard to argue with Ben's framework. Although I'm sure he understands it, I doubt he will ever fully agree.

"I'm sure that we can use Rose, Emmett, and Jasper's connections to help mess with him too," I add, trying to lead us back to my original point that my friends don't have to buy Ben's sudden appearance.

"No, Bella. You're not getting it. They can't know about this either," Ben states.

"I get that Edward's involvement and your background can't be shared, but couldn't we just come up with another back-story for who you are?" I pause for a minute trying to spin a logical story in my head. The thought of continuing to keep them in the dark is gut-wrenching. Glancing at Edward, I'm unexpectedly struck with the bitter taste of the life he's been living. "I don't know if I can lie to them like that."

"It's for their own good," Ben contends.

Although I would never want to put them in danger, I can't let the argument go easily, if only for my own conscience. "What if I tell them that you're a private investigator who's investigating Riley and we decided to work together." It sounds shaky now, but I'm sure Ben could develop something solid.

"The simpler we can keep it the better," Edward argues.

"But—"

"Do you think it's fair to ask them to keep that secret? From their agencies? From Alice?" Edward asks brusquely. "Believe me, I struggle with those questions every single day, and the answer is never easy. You need to ask yourself if it's worth the risk to them."

"I don't know," I whisper honestly, taken aback by his words. "Wait! What about Paul? Even if we avoid going to the Fillmore, it will come up in conversation with the others. He's going to figure it out and tell them anyway."

"I can take care of him," Ben responds cryptically. Reacting to my shocked face, he quickly clarifies. "Jesus, not like that. He's been trying to attend this exclusive mindfulness retreat in Thailand. I'll pull some strings and get him in. I have no doubt that he'll drop everything to go there right away."

"Just how many connections do you have?" I ask, astonished by his never-ending reach.

"You have no idea," Edward gripes, frustration punctuating his words. "Even if you get him to leave, I still don't think that this will work."

"How much do they know about your life in law school?" Ben asks suddenly.

"I don't know, not much, I guess."

"Did you have a serious boyfriend?" Ben asks, mischief gleaming in his eyes. Edward shakes his head, frowning at him.

"I dated, but nothing serious. Alice and Rose know that Edward…" I hesitate, the vulnerability of the words stuck in my throat. Squaring my shoulders, I force myself to push past it. "They know I never lo…they know that Edward was my most serious relationship, and that's about it." Edward regards me carefully, his feet subtly moving in my direction.

Ben glances between us, and for a second a smirk breaks free before his expression once again becomes passive. "Okay, how about this? We dated briefly, and when I decided to relocate to the bay area, I looked you up. Being a kind-hearted person, you offered me your guest room while I looked around."

"Hmm, that might work," I murmur, contemplating the possible questions we would face.

"No it wouldn't," Edward scoffs. "You think Rose won't pick that apart?"

"Not if Bella claims that part of her reasoning was to get back at you. I mean come on, they know she's pissed at you and that you're trying to get her back. What a great FU move on her part."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," I state, agreeing with Ben.

Although Edward is right about my friends being concerned with such a rash decision, Rose particularly will be supportive of anything that looks as if I'm sticking it to Edward. Alice will be concerned, but I see her probing more into my rationale than on the details of Ben's sudden appearance.

Contemplating the plan, I try to stuff back the feelings of doubt I have about deceiving them. Edward's words are still weighing heavily on my heart, and I don't know if telling them is worth the risk. I can only pray that once the truth comes out, they will forgive me and understand that I had no choice.

The notion stops me cold. Once again, I'm shaken by the similarities of my rationale and Edward's reasoning for not telling me what was going on. It unexpectedly gives me a different perspective, one that was hard to see through the haze of my anger towards him. Scrutinizing Edward, I realize just how much there is for us to discuss, and I suddenly find myself wanting to understand him and his choices better.

"So you go back with Bella, then what?" Edward spits out, shaking me out of my thoughts.

"That's what we need to figure out," Ben acknowledges, his face thoughtful.

"I think you should go back first," I blurt out, struck with inspiration.

"Me?" Ben asks.

"Yes. Edward's right, coming back together will raise a lot of suspicion. I think it will be easier to explain if we stagger our arrival. Alice keeps a spare key to my house. You could get it from her after I give you permission to stay there while I'm gone. Plus, I think my arrival should be timed around the news of Sam if we really want to shock Riley."

Edward stands silently, while Ben swiftly picks up my train of thought. "Okay, I think I'm following. You're letting me crash at your house so that I can get established, and then you'll return…"

"When Sam's declared missing," I affirm, finishing his sentence. "Hearing about his disappearance would be the most believable reason for me to come home given all the reasons I left."

"And if you come back acting surprised and worried…"

"I'll confuse the hell out of Riley," I smile, meeting Ben for an impromptu high-five.

"I don't know, Edward. Your girl here might just give us a run for our money in the spy department."

"Wonderful. We can start a club after you guys finish this fun-feast," Edward grumbles bitterly. "For the record, I still think this idea is insane."

"Sometimes the most insane ideas bring the best results," Ben quips before a loud vibrating sound interrupts him. He quickly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to scroll through what must be a long message.

"Is that them?" Edward asks, his voice promptly taking on an official quality.

"Yeah, they want me to meet them for the debrief."

"Are you going to talk to Sam?" It's difficult to say his name; the rage I feel is still overwhelming, yet, the prosecutor in me is also curious about his spiral into madness. I'm interested to know if he's admitted to anything else since his capture.

"No, but I'll find out if there are any updates on him or Diego. They were going to put them next to each other after the hospital released Sam. Hopefully, they became chatty." He quickly grabs his keys and one of the duffle bags. "Bella, I'll also make sure to grab your bag while I'm there."

"My bag?"

"They picked it up from your motel room as a part of the clean-up."

"How did you know where…?" I stop myself from completing the sentence at Ben's incredulous look. "Right. Well, regardless of the how, I'm glad. I _really_ want to get out of these." I pull on the collar of my shirt. It feels like the craziness of the day has clung to my body, making me feel grimy and gross.

He turns his eyes towards, Edward. "They found a building about an hour away to step up any operations we need until we can figure out our next steps."

"The regular crew?" he asks, his body relaxing a bit with the news.

I'm fascinated by their natural instinct to leave the conversation vague, especially in regards to names and other identifiers of the "they" and "them". It makes me question whether I will ever be completely knowledgeable to the interworking of their mission.

"I'll try to hurry back and then we can finalize the timeframes for our return to San Francisco." Rushing to the door, he looks back with a smirk. "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

"Asshole," Edward shouts as the door shuts.

"I can't believe that you two actually know each other," I say, still reeling from seeing them interact.

Edward moves closer, his hand reaching out. "I know your head is spinning, especially after what you went through with Sam."

"I think that's the understatement of the year."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, continuing his slow progression.

"I know." I feel stretched between two aches. The magnetic pull towards him torturous against the anger of everything left unresolved.

Finally reaching me, his fingers gently pull up my chin. "How does your face feel?"

"It's sore, but better than it was."

"Do you want me to get you some more ice?"

"No, that's okay."

Letting me go, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "I'm going to take a shower and get out of these clothes. Are you good?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to get some air. Clear my mind a bit." It's hard to look him in the eye.

"Of course. I'll just be a few minutes." Squeezing my shoulder, he gives me another forlorn smile before grabbing his bag and walking up the stairs.

Waiting until I hear the shower start, I zip up my hoodie and head outside. The air is crisp and feels refreshing after such a heavy conversation. The surrounding area is peacefully silent as the magical glow of dusk falls upon the yard. Watching the skyline, I stand hypnotized as the sun slowly disappears on the horizon, finally bringing an end to this crazy day.

My head feels heavy, a jumble of information not fully processed. I finally have some answers, now I just need to decide what to do with them. Taking a shuddering breath, I wonder how long it will take to feel as if I have closure.

_I just want to feel normal again._

As soon as the desire tempts my thoughts, I laugh at the ridiculousness of it. I shouldn't kid myself. I have to redefine what normal is before I can get there. It's time to accept that things will never go back to what they once were.

"Think it, believe it, do it," I whisper, repeating the comforting saying in hopes that it will provide me some direction.

Deciding to stay out longer, I move to the sitting area by the door. The old swing squeaks as soon as I sit, my legs flailing when it suddenly moves back. The cold metal evokes a deep shiver, my thin jacket ineffective against it. Crossing my arms across my chest, I pull my legs up under me in an effort to create warmth. Leaning back and closing my eyes, I lose myself to the soft rocking motion.

I don't know how long I sat there before the sound of the door opening disrupts the stillness. Sweeping my eyes over, I find Edward standing there, awkwardly holding a steaming mug.

"I thought you might want something warm to drink." He shuffles forward. "There's not much in the kitchen, but I found a Tupperware container of black tea. I don't know how old it is, so sip at your own risk," he chuckles avoiding eye contact. It's still strange seeing him so uncomfortable; before he left he was always so confident.

Reaching out, I carefully take the mug, the hot ceramic feels good against my chilled hands. "Thanks."

"Do you mind if I keep you company?"

"Umm, I guess not."

Walking over to the porch stairs, he sits against the banner on the other side so that he can face me. Once again, the tension swoops in, enveloping us like a strangling blanket, reminding me just how far removed we are from our easy banter. We need to figure out a way to move past this if we are going to work together.

"How are you doing?" He pauses to roll his eyes. "I should really stop asking you that."

Although, he's basically retracted the question, I decide to answer anyway. "Honestly, I think I'm just dealing with each moment as it comes."

"That makes sense." He looks towards the sky, both of us quiet for a while.

"What was it like?" I ask, breaking the silence.

Startled by my question, it takes him a moment to answer. "What was what like?"

"Going undercover."

"Oh." He looks away, staring at the yard. "It's hard to describe. Lonely, I guess. Nothing like I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure. I guess you could say I went in with a reckless attitude. I planned to just take everyone and everything down right away."

"I guess that didn't work out."

Edward huffs. "Hardly. The Agency pulled me back quickly. They wanted a strategic and long-term plan rather than guns blazing."

"Is that why you've been gone so long?" His head tilts with a curious look, so I decide to clarify. "You've said a couple of times that you wanted to come back, but it's been three years. It's hard to make sense of that in my head."

He nods, looking down at his hands. "At first, I thought that as soon as my grandfather died I would be able to meet all of his associates, find out some dirt, and then take them down. A few months tops, end of story."

"Not that easy, huh?" I lean deeper into the swing. Taking a sip of the tea, I feel the warmth slide down my throat.

"Not by a long shot. The Agency knew that my grandfather's people were watching me and probably wouldn't trust my sudden involvement. For over a year and a half, I just laid low, only relaying information until his associates started to trust that I was legit. Even then, I could only do small things, making sure that I wasn't close to any major busts. I learned that undercover work is slow and painful."

"Is that why you didn't contact me after your grandfather died?"

My mind can't help analyzing everything he said since he returned, sorting through the timetable of when he left, when he decided he wanted to come back, and his ultimate return. From what I've pieced together, he decided several months after leaving that he wanted to return, and yet years went by without any attempt to reach out.

"I wanted to, but what would that accomplish? I still couldn't tell you the truth, and there was no way in hell I was bringing you into that world as my girlfriend. I didn't want my mother's life for you. Not to mention, contact with me would have made you a target. It just wasn't safe."

"Oh." I ponder his words. "There wasn't a way to get me a message? Not even through Ben?"

He continues to stare at his hands, offering no explanation. I decide to hold the uncomfortable silence, hoping that he will eventually break first.

"Probably," he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.

"What?" I ask, wanting to make sure that I heard him correctly.

"I said probably." He lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. "I could have gotten you a message through Ben." He stands, pursing out a heavy breath. "But I was scared."

"Of them finding out?"

Turning away, he leans against the railing, the porch silent once again. Banging his fist against the wood, he spins around. "No, of you. I had a million reasons in my head for why it wasn't a good idea to contact you. I didn't want to take the coward's way out through a note, _again_. I knew that would just leave you in limbo until I came back. I was also scared to death that without being able to explain in person, you would just write any chance for us off altogether. So I didn't do it." His words rush out in a manic frenzy before he stops to take a breath. "Ben tried to convince me to reach out, but I refused, holding fast to my convictions. Now that I'm back, and we're here..." he waves his arm between us. "Fuck. Maybe I was wrong."

If I step back from my emotions, I guess I can see both sides. It's hard to know how I would have reacted to another letter. Would it have made it easier? In some respects, at least I would have known. Although, I don't know if my feelings towards him would have been any different if he had reached out. Knowing sooner wouldn't change the betrayal, and at least now, I can ask him questions.

"I guess we'll never know," I conclude sadly, taking another sip, watching him nod his head. "I think this helps though."

"It does?" His face looks hopeful for the first time tonight.

"I want to understand. I don't know what that means for us in the long-run, but I know I need to have all the information. There's just too much left unresolved for either of us to move forward, regardless of what the outcome is."

"I meant what I said before, Bella. There is nothing stopping me from telling you everything now. I'll answer anything you want to know. But for the record, I know the outcome I want. I won't give up on us easily."

Now it is my turn to nod. I have no doubt that he will continue to fight for me. "How many criminal groups were you targeting?" I ask, getting the conversation back on track. Understanding his experiences and mindset might help me better understand his decisions.

"It changed over the years. Every time I thought I was done, they kept me on a hook for one more mission, someone that only my connections could help nail. Most of the time, it felt like I was chasing some unattainable goal. When I got the orders to return to San Francisco, I realized it was my chance to push them into releasing me from my contract. Riley is supposed to be my final and biggest accomplishment."

"I wish you would have contacted me when you knew you were coming back. I think it was harder getting caught off guard."

Edward drops his head. "I know. Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. At the time, I was trying to gear up for a complicated mission. I had no illusions that Riley was going to be easy." He pauses and shakes his head. "The thought of being with you was the only thing that kept me sane most of the time. If that was taken away…well, I guess it was easier to have the fantasy instead of facing the possibility you would never forgive me, especially when I was so close to getting out."

A part of me understands his logic, and yet at the same time, his continuous habit of deciding things on my behalf just pisses me off. "We're never going to get past this if you keep making decisions for me. I hope you understand that it ends now."

"I understand." Conviction rings through his words. "It might be hard, especially with what we are facing, but I'll do my best to prove myself to you."

I give him a small appreciative smile in return before continuing. "What kind of things did you have to do?"

Sitting down heavily against the banner, he picks up a leaf and crumbles it in his hand. His hunched body reminds me of the night he returned. His haunted eyes were shocking, and I remember wondering what caused it. I never in a million years imagined undercover work.

"More than I want to remember," he whispers overcome. "It's something that you don't really consider being a part of the job. The CIA lifestyle from a distance appears so glamorous. I had fantasies of rolling into a situation with a well-practiced poker face and then saving the day."

Looking out into the field again, he pauses and picks up another leaf. "What you don't think about is figuring out how to realistically look like you're taking drugs without actually becoming high. Or watching people get the living shit beat out of them, or worse yet, watching someone drag an innocent girl away knowing exactly what her fate will be. Especially when every instinct you have screams to stop them, yet if you do, you'll blow your cover."

I think back on the thousands of files I've read. The only thing that allows me to look at the violence that people do to each other is knowing that I'm helping to stop it. "I can't imagine what that would be like."

"Remember when I talked about the good of the many outweighing the good of the few?" Edward's eyes turn dark and stormy.

"Yes."

"When I left, I thought that I would be the only one sacrificed. However, I learned that the 'few' stack up pretty quickly. The safety of the girl in front of me wasn't worth risking the bust of ten drug dealers later. Everything was about politics and red tape. The CIA doesn't give a fuck about people. The only thing they care about is the bottom line. I was appalled by their cavalier acceptance of collateral damage."

"How did you keep going?"

A bitter laugh escapes his lips. "Some days, I almost didn't. There were so many times I told Ben to tell them to shove it. I can see why the dark side seduces some agents to join the people you are after. In some respects, you build these relationships, which at times, support you better than the people who are supposed to be the good guys."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"I think they keep those statistics classified, but it's a risk they take with every agent they send in. It's easy to lose yourself in the process. I guess that's also why the suicide rates are higher for undercover agents, although those numbers are never published either. The CIA has a reputation to protect," he grumbles bitterly.

"That's horrible."

"You have no idea. I don't know if I would ever turn to the dark side, but I admit there were times that it just seemed easier."

"Did you ever consider…you know…the other?" I struggle to stay the word.

"Suicide?"

I nod my head, watching as he swallows, a dark cloud forming around him. I recognize it easily; it's the same one that followed me for months. I've looked down that abyss myself.

"I don't think considered is the right word," he says quietly, splaying his hands out, looking at them intently. "Some days, it felt like I lost myself. I'd come back after a horrendous day and I would just stare at my hands wondering how they could have done those things. Some days I just felt outside of myself. I don't know if I can really describe it." His voice is so quiet that I strain to hear it as he turns his hands from front to back. "Some days I thought about how it would feel to just let go. I never had a plan, I never chose a method, but the thought of peace was seductive."

His words are hauntingly familiar to my own. "Edward…" I get up slowly, no longer able to fight the pull. Sitting down, I pull my knees up and lean my head against his arm, impulsively tangling one of his hands in mine. "I'm glad you fought your way through."

He stares at our entwined hands, almost fascinated by the sight. "Aren't you sickened?"

"What?"

"Knowing that I've done unspeakable things, watched unimaginable things." He shakes his head ruefully. "I don't know how you can look at me, let alone touch me. Hell, some days I can't even look at myself."

"Edward—"

"You want to know my biggest fear about contacting you?" he interrupts, his troubled eyes swinging around to pierce mine.

"What?" I know he needs to get this out, just as much as I needed to grieve the truth of my father's murder.

"This moment, right here. The moment when you realize that I'm a monster and walk away."

"Except, I'm still here," I whisper, not a hundred percent sure I understand it myself.

"Why?" he chokes.

"Because I know who you are," The unexpected words rush out quickly. Edward inhales sharply, his hand tightening around mine almost painfully. I think I've surprised him as much as I've shocked myself.

One of the most difficult things about him leaving was feeling as though I couldn't trust my own heart. Yet, as I sit here, listening to his pain and processing the truths learned today, I'm suddenly hit by the confirmation that it wasn't all a lie. The relief is almost overwhelming.

"I know you," I whisper, leaning into him, my other hand reaching over to cover the location of his tattoo, a tangible symbol of his faith and struggle.

"And you saved me, Bella. On my darkest days, it was the thought of you that kept me going. Hell, it's what still keeps me going."

"You really want out?"

"More than anything. I know I can't go back to who I was before, I've seen too much. I need to find myself again. I need to be just Edward. No games, no plans, no strategy."

"I think we both have some healing to do."

"Yeah, we do." He cautiously lifts our hands to his lips. "Where do we go from here?"

I wish I could say that things will be easy or that tonight will solve everything, but I think we both know that not's true. This was an important step, but there will be many more, each of us carrying more baggage than any one person should.

"Forward. Just forward."

* * *

_"How do you know if a relationship is meant to last forever?"_

_My dad looks up from his plate, swallowing his bite quickly. "That's quite the question."_

_"You knew that Mom was forever. Why?" I push him further, my own anxiety about someday submitting my heart has me looking for a concrete answer._

_"Because it wasn't perfect."_

_"What?"_

_"Great love," he says, "embraces the imperfect. That is how it survives the chaos of life."_

* * *

For the first time in a long time, that memory doesn't hurt. Even with all the darkness and unknowns we have yet to face, maybe there is still hope after all.


	16. Chapter 15: Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe the completion of each chapter to LostInPA, who keeps me going and gives her time graciously to re-read my chapters as I tweak my way through. She is the best!

Chapter 15: Carry On

_"It's a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you're ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There is almost no such thing as ready. There is only now. And you may as well do it now. Generally speaking, now is as good a time as any."_

_Hugh Laurie_

* * *

Jolted awake by a loud bang, it takes me a moment to identify the sound of the wind and rain beating against the window. Snuggling into the pillow, I breathe through my rapidly beating pulse, waiting for it to catch up with my awareness. Regardless of Ben and Edward's assurance that no one followed us, my nerves are still on edge, especially with Alec's whereabouts unknown.

Looking up at celling, my thoughts drift back to last night. I finally feel like I understand, and although I don't agree with all of Edward's choices, I'm glad that I know the truth. In the midst of all this craziness, something shifted as Edward and I sat on that porch. Especially after our emotionally charged exchange, when we settled into a comfortable silence with our hands still linked. Although it wasn't the forgiveness that Edward is seeking, it was at least a step in the right direction.

We remained that way until Ben returned from his meeting. To my weary eyes, the world seemed to slowdown as he stepped out of the vehicle holding a familiar bag. With Sam's disgusting touch still lingering on my skin, my body was all but screaming for a shower. Ben's arrival saved me from enduring it any longer, my punch-drunk brain overly enamored by his "heroic" deed. All that was missing was the dramatic movie music as he purposely strolled over to hand it to me, his overgrown hair blowing in the breeze.

Although he said the trip was fruitful, we agreed that it was best to discuss the information in the morning, all of us feeling the effects of the day. God knows my brain wasn't ready to handle any more information. Luckily, the spacious farmhouse allowed each of us to have our own rooms, and after a final goodnight, we went our separate ways for the evening.

Deciding to face the day, I gather my things and move to the connecting bathroom to get ready. We have a lot to decide and plan before someone reports Sam missing. Our timeframe will depend upon whether he told anyone at the bureau that he was going out of town. If he didn't, we will need to move fast considering we are heading into the beginning of a workweek.

The rain is still coming down when I'm finished, the scraping of branches against the house echoing in the otherwise silent room. Standing at the window, I watch the water pound against the ground below, the day cold and dreary. The scene feels fitting.

"Bella?" Ben's voice abruptly disrupts the stillness followed by a light knock. "Can I come in?"

Walking over, I open the faded door to his somber face. "Sure. Is something wrong?"

Stepping to the side, he walks in holding a paper bag. "No. I have something that I wanted to give you, and I thought it would be better to do in private."

"Okay," I draw out, unsure of whether I'm ready for another revelation.

Exhaling quickly, he jumps right in. "So our team went through Sam's apartment with a fine-tooth comb last night. They ended up emptying out the whole damn place trying to categorize all the evidence."

"How bad was it?" I can't get the sickening smile on Sam's face when he talked about those girls out of my head.

Ben's mouth turns down into a disgusted frown. "It's bad, but we can talk about that later. Right now…" he pauses opening the bag. "I thought it was about time that this was returned to you." Reaching in, he takes out my dad's journal.

"Oh my God!" I snatch it out of his hands and hold it close. I thought for sure that Sam would have destroyed it. "Thank you."

"You deserved to have it."

I give him an appreciative smile knowing that returning it was probably against protocol. We stand there for a moment, the now familiar awkwardness seeping in around us. I hate it.

"I know you feel betrayed by me." My eyes shoot up, surprised by his boldness. "I'm not a sugar coating type of guy, Bella, you know that."

"Right," I whisper, sitting on the bed, holding the journal tightly. "I understand the reasoning more than when I first found out, but it still hurts. You were someone I learned to rely on."

Sighing, Ben sits next to me. "And you still can. I wasn't lying when I said I gained a friend. I don't let many people into my life, but you wormed your way in, remember," he winks, reflecting back on the conversation we had at his cabin.

I nod my head. "Your friendship means a lot to me too."

"I didn't like thinking about how it would affect you when you found out, but I had to ensure Edward's cover. That was my charge, and one that I took seriously. My own desire to tell you couldn't get in the way of that."

"Is it hard to lead such a devious life?" Like with Edward, I want to understand his choices.

"I believe in what I'm doing. It makes it worth it to me in the end."

"Hmmm," I mumble, contemplating everything I've learned.

"Hey, like I told you before, once you're in, you're in. Whether you like it or not, Justice, you're stuck with me."

"I think I can handle that," I reply honestly. "But don't expect me to make it easy on you," I stress, pointing at him sternly.

"Well, lucky for me, roomie, I'm going to have plenty of time to break you down," he asserts, undeterred.

I can't help but smile at his infectious nature. "You're trouble," I mock, giving him a playful shove. Ben Cheney is a hard person to keep at a distance.

"I've been called a lot worse," he retorts, standing up. "Speaking of which, we better get started. Are you ready to head downstairs?"

"I need a minute," I say quietly, turning my attention to the journal in my lap.

"I understand. Come down when you're ready." Ben walks to the door, but stops when he reaches the handle. "I'm not going to allow any of them to get away with what they did to you, or your father. Mark my words, Bella." His back is straight and tone deadly. I've never been afraid of Ben, but I'm suddenly relieved that I'm not on the opposite end of this scheme.

"I believe you."

"Good, good," he breathes, walking out the door.

Tracing the edges of the journal, I open the back cover and flip to the page that started this whole thing. The sketch remains where it was, Sam's arrogance stronger than the logical choice to destroy it. I'm glad, at least in this instance, it worked in my favor. Seeing it somehow justifies the crazy journey I've been on.

_"You should have seen the look on his face. That moment of realization before I pulled the trigger..."_

I wonder if my father had any clue about Sam before that night in the rain, or did the realization only hit when he saw the gun. Staring unseen across the room, the words written on the police report flash before my eyes. My father's gun, lying unused on the floorboard, suggests that he wasn't expecting the showdown at the corner.

A crinkling sound brings me back to the present, my hand subconsciously fisting the page as waves of anger crash against me. My dad was a cautious man, but he was also one the few that hadn't let the job change him. He ultimately still saw the good in others. I hate that Sam took advantage of his trusting nature, and that the last experience he had was one of betrayal.

Forcefully shaking the negative emotions off, I release my grip and flip the pages forward. Skimming through the entries, I'm able to gather glimpses of my Dad's thoughts and dreams. I can almost sense him, his strength, and his love wrapping around me. The warmth is a vast contrast to the all-consuming rage experienced just moments earlier.

He wrote of me often, especially his concern about how I was dealing with Edward leaving. He particularly wondered whether he made the right choice by not telling me about their conversation. Dad also penned his various suspicions about the reasoning behind Edward's quick departure; some of which were not far off the truth.

Although he was angry with him for hurting me, my dad was also very compassionate towards him. Describing a person who's been searching for the love and acceptance he never received when he was younger. He was impressed with the person Edward became despite his circumstances, and hoped that one day he would find peace.

The unconditional regard my dad expressed within his journal entries is astounding, and reminds me once again just how lost I've become. I want to continue that legacy, to live life the way he taught me, however, I can't do that by focusing on the past.

Energized by his words, I feel the desire, now more than ever, to end this game with Riley. "Come on, Swan, time to kick it into gear." Standing up, I tuck the journal safely into my bag and dauntlessly step out of the room.

Walking downstairs, I hear Edward and Ben engaged in an intense conversation, the sound of clinking dishes punctuating their curt words.

"It's too fucking dangerous!" Edward growls.

"You want out? This is the best and quickest way to get it done," Ben responds calmly.

"Not at the expense of Bella! None of this matters if she gets hurt!"

A pan bangs loudly. "You seriously think I'll allow that to happen? Get over yourself, Edward. You're not the only one who can do this, and you're not the only one who cares about her. Considering everything that she's been through, she has a right to decide what's best for her. It's time for everyone to stop making decisions for her, especially when she's more than capable herself."

"Wise words," I voice, stepping around the corner. Both men freeze at my unexpected interruption.

Edward is standing next to the stove, while Ben is by the sink doing dishes. Ben's hand is holding tightly to a pot, most likely the source of the noise from earlier.

"Bella—" Edward starts.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself. The quicker we come up with a solid plan, the quicker we can end this."

"Of course," Edward mutters, stirring something on the stove. Ben just flashes a wry smile.

Walking over to the counter facing the stove, I hoist myself up. "Don't forget your promise, no more making decisions for me."

Stopping mid-stir, Edward turns around. "I remember, but I also won't stand by quietly if I think you're at risk."

"And as long as you don't alter any of _my_ plans because of it, you can be as loud as you want," I challenge. This is Edward, I expect him to have an opinion, but that doesn't mean I have to change my mind because of it.

"Understood," he replies tersely, focusing back on his cooking.

Eyeing the coffee pot next to the stove, I start to jump down when Ben stops me. "I gotcha, stay put." He grabs a mug out of the cabinet, fills it, and walks it over.

Taking a sip, my body hums happily. "Where did all of this come from?" I ask, noticing for the first time the cinnamon rolls on the table in the corner.

"I found a country store a few miles down during my run this morning. Since food is _kind of_ a necessity, I decided to stock up," Edward joshes, attempting to ease the tension.

"Excellent choice, oh wise one," Ben banters back, rolling his eyes.

"What are you cooking?" The fantastic smells are making my stomach growl.

"Eggs and hash."

"It's for my adrenaline hangover," Ben adds.

"Huh?" I ask, looking between the two men.

"After an intense mission, it almost feels like I went on some sort of bender, so I usually crave greasy food to restore my depleted reserves. Edward, here, was kind enough to hook me up. Though I suspect his original breakfast plan probably involved something a bit more romantic."

Edward's spine stiffens, the spoon clanging loudly on the counter before he turns with a grimace. "You're hilarious. I suggest you shut it if you expect to get any." His tone is serious, but there is an underlying levity to it, the kind that only the closest friends share.

Ben raises his hands in submission, before gesturing with a mocking zipping of his lips. "I speak of nothing."

"Good," Edward retorts. "Because the food's ready."

Grabbing plates and silverware, we sit around the old wooden table enjoying breakfast. I'm once again surprised by Edward's cooking ability, the greasy delight pleasantly filling my stomach.

"What's next?" I ask between bites, anxious to get a plan in place.

"We need to figure out the timeframe for our various returns to San Francisco," Ben asserts.

"First, you need to tell us about the meeting," Edward counters.

Swallowing a big bite, Ben lays his fork down and places his elbows on the table to link his hands under his chin. "Right. Well, our friend Sam is keeping fairly quiet, and setting him up next to Diego hasn't been productive."

"I thought you said the trip was 'fruitful'?" I question.

"In regards to the evidence they found in Sam's apartment, it was. He's not being cooperative right now, but the crap he had in there gives us some major leverage."

"They're not thinking of making a deal are they?"

"No, but no one said we couldn't suggest it," he winks.

"That's walking a fine legal line," I scoff. "If you taint the process, everything you found will be considered off limits."

"Bella," Ben states calmly. "We wouldn't do anything to risk his conviction."

"I hope not, he needs to be held accountable for what he did to those girls _and_ my father."

Reaching over, Edward places his hand over mine, his fingers gently coaxing me to release my strangled grip on the fork. "Don't worry. He'll get what's coming to him." He squeezes my hand one last time before letting go. "So, nothing between the two of them?" he asks, directing his attention back to Ben.

"No. I think it confirms what we suspected earlier. Diego was probably a recent hire of Alec's. He doesn't seem to have any useful knowledge about Riley or Sam. In fact, he kept asking Sam who he was."

"And you're sure it's not an act?" I ask.

"It would be a really good one if it was." Ben pauses, tapping his chin. "I just wish we could get Sam to break. He's the one with the information."

"I could get him to talk," I blurt out, almost before I realize what I'm saying.

"What are you talking about?" Edward asks, frowning.

"He was babbling to no end when I was with him. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself."

"Yeah, but that's because he was going to _kill_ you," Edward snaps.

"Partly, but I also think he wanted to impress me. He wanted me to know how smart he was. It was almost as if he was bragging."

"Hmm. You raise an interesting point," Ben adds, chiming in.

"No she doesn't." Edward glares at Ben.

"I think his obsession with me will distract him enough to make a mistake," I argue.

"Bella—"

"No wait, Edward. I think she's onto something."

"How secure is this site?" I question, contemplating another possibility to this unexpected plan.

"Very," Edward says curtly, obviously troubled by the direction of the conversation.

"Why?" Ben asks, looking at me curiously. "Come on, I see that mind of yours working. You need to share with the whole class."

"I know Edward's undercover status is classified, but if this place is secure, could he confront Sam with me?"

Edward leans forward, suddenly interested in my train of thought. "Why?"

"Because you got under his skin. He felt that you were an obstacle between us. If we confront him together, I bet he'll unravel and start oversharing in an attempt to prove that he's better than you."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Ben remarks with a wide grin. "That's brilliant."

Edward wads up his napkin and tosses it on the table. I know he doesn't want me near Sam, but I also believe that this will work. Silently daring him to argue, I watch as he swallows his challenge. "It does make sense."

"Thanks," I whisper. Edward's wide eyes capture mine, understanding that I'm thanking him for more than just his answer. I need him to start trusting me too.

"The sooner you guys can—" A ringtone unexpectedly cuts off Ben's sentence.

Pulling a phone out of his pocket, Edward looks at the screen. "Ahh, the start of part two."

Once again, I find myself looking between the two men for a clue, especially because Ben appears to understand what's happening. "Just watch," he mouths with a smirk.

"Hi, Kate," Edward states bluntly, holding the phone to his ear. "Did you get my e-mail?" He's silent, listening intently to what she is saying. "I don't care, I want that property…I understand, but it's not about what I can use it for, I just don't want Riley to have it…You're not paid to challenge my decisions, you're paid to make things happen. So make it happen!" His voice is chilling.

Ben leans back in his chair, satisfied with the direction of the call. Edward is clearly working his end of the plan. It's all starting to happen.

"One more thing," Edward barks. "I want to know if he is interested in any other property in the surrounding area. If he is, put in a bid. I want him to know that I'm here to play. Do you understand?...Good. Keep me updated." Edward puts the phone down and smiles. "Biers isn't going to know what hit him."

"Any word on what he's doing?" I ask.

"Not much," Ben replies. "When I met with the team, they said that he is still making himself visible, but yesterday, he had a little meltdown in the middle of a club. It was after he received a phone call. If I was a betting man, I would say that it was probably Alec telling him that things went to hell."

"Yeah, my sources say he's on edge, but holding it together," Edward adds. "But that should change soon." He smirks waving his phone.

Standing up, Ben stretches. "I guess it's time for my part. While I'm getting ready, why don't you call your friend, Bella, and set up a meeting for me to get that key tomorrow."

"Sure. What's the status with Paul?"

"Leaving in a couple of hours. I don't think the guy could make his travel arrangements quick enough once he got in."

"You work fast."

"It's a gift," he jokes, shrugging his shoulders. "See you in a few." Turning, he walks out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

Getting up, I start gathering all the dishes, needing some time to organize my thoughts before I call Alice.

"Here, let me help." Edward grabs a couple of the dishes I have piled precariously on top of each other.

"You cooked," I contend, wanting to carry my own weight.

"Doesn't matter." His body brushes by mine as he walks to the sink. Following him, I try to ignore the shiver.

Getting down to business, we stand next to each other as I wash and he dries. The monumental power of the moment is in the mundane nature of the task.

"Are you nervous about calling, Alice?" Even with time and space between us, Edward still understands me like no other. Dishes are a great distraction, and he's indirectly calling me on it.

"Does it get easier?" Dunk, scrub, and rinse. I focus intently on each motion, waiting to hear his response.

"I don't know if 'easier' is the right word. It becomes second nature. Most of the people I deal with only know me as the CEO of Global, so I guess that makes it easier."

"I lied about when I went to Ben's," I admit, "but this feels worse. I don't know if I can face them every day and not tell them."

Setting a plate down in the dish rack, he turns to lean against the sink while methodically drying his hands. "There's no easy trick. I guess you just need to believe in what you're doing. That there's a good reason."

"Nothing is black and white is it?"

"No," he sighs, looking at me, "it's not. But it's also not going to get any easier the longer you think about it."

"Like a band-aide, right?"

He chuckles softly. "I guess it is."

"Okay, then. Do you mind finishing up here?" I dry my hands deciding to make the call before I lose my nerve again.

Taking the dishtowel out of my hand, he shakes his head. Walking around him, I stop when he carefully grabs my elbow, his fingers caressing my skin. "You can do this and it _is_ for the best. It's safer for everyone if they don't know."

"Thanks," I whisper, turning to look at him.

Leaning forward, he lightly kisses my forehead. "I'll be here if you need me." Nodding, I walk out of his grasp, his fingers slipping away slowly. Looking back one last time, he gives me an encouraging smile.

Reaching my room, I grab my phone and sit on the bed. Taking a deep breath and flexing my hand to calm my shaky fingers, I hit the familiar number, waiting for Alice to pick up.

"Bella!" Her voice is perky and bright.

"Hey, Al. How are things?"

"Fine, but I should be asking you that instead. Are you okay?"

"Yup, getting away is exactly what I needed. I feel like I'm finally able to clear my head." The words roll off my tongue easier than I expected, maybe because they aren't too far from the truth.

"That's great."

Deciding to hurry things along, I get right to the point. A long drawn out conversation will only make it harder. "I was actually calling for a favor."

"Anything, you know that."

"I do," I respond seriously, appreciative of her unconditional friendship. "Luckily, this isn't a hard one. I have a friend from law school that needs a place to stay while he relocates. I told him that he could use my house since I'm out of town."

"Him?" she questions mischievously.

"Don't let your imagination run away with you," I joke. "Could you meet him tomorrow and give him the spare key?"

"Sure. Just have him swing by the museum. What's his name?"

"Ben—" I stop suddenly, realizing we never discussed names. I doubt he wants her to have his full name. "I'll-ah give him your address and tell him to ask for you." I say quickly, hoping that she missed the jittery attempt to avoid giving her all the details.

"Sounds good…damn, my next appointment is here. I have to go. Call me later?"

"Of course." My body sighs in relief, the fortunes of fate shining down on me.

After another quick goodbye, I hang up, grateful that I made it through without a major slip-up. Catching myself in the floor-length mirror across the room, I evaluate the reflection closely.

"You're being ridiculous." I scoff after several seconds. "What did you expect? Devil horns?"

Deep down, I guess I'm afraid that learning to mislead my friends will somehow change who I am. Yet, from a practical standpoint, I also know that if these conversations don't become easier, the emotional fallout from having to lie will become harder and harder to swallow.

A gentle knock on the door breaks through my reverie. "Bella?"

Glancing at my phone, I'm surprised by the time. Apparently, I've pondered the quandary longer than I realized. "Come in."

"Hey," Edward murmurs. "How did it go?'

"Alright. She couldn't stay on the phone long, so that made it easier."

"I'm glad it went well." His nails click against the door nervously.

"What's going on?"

"If you're serious about confronting Sam, we can probably see him today." His words rush out quickly.

"Really?" I ask, standing up.

"I need to head back to San Francisco sooner rather than later, and I imagine it won't be long until he's reported missing. If we're going to do this, it needs to be now."

"I thought—"

He raises his hand, cutting me off. "I promised you that I would prove myself. I'm not thrilled about this, but I trust your instincts. If you want to go, I'm in."

"When do we leave," I inquire smiling, a strange combination of excitement and trepidation coursing through my veins.

"Give me about ten minutes. I'll meet you downstairs."

"Okay. See you there." He gives me a quick nod before walking out the door.

Not really having much to do to get ready, I grab my jacket and head back downstairs to wait. Sitting on the couch, a loud creaking pulls my attention to the stairs. I almost do a double take at the sight. Ben is standing on the stairs wearing dark jeans and a crisp white shirt. His face is clean-shaven and hair trimmed. The modifications and subtle changes in how he's carrying himself give off a completely different air.

"Wow! You clean up good," I joke.

"I can't be some big shot lawyer from Columbia in my grubby clothes now can I?"

"You certainly know how to play the part, that's for sure."

He walks down the stairs, and I'm again amazed at how easily he can alter his persona. Whereas before, he looked unassuming, now he has a commanding presence. I can easily imagine him owning a courtroom.

"How do you do it?" I ask.

"How do I do what?"

"Every time we meet you have this whole different character. Don't you get tired of it?"

"Hell no! Didn't I ever tell you that Halloween is my favorite holiday?" Giving him a frustrated look, he pauses. "Here's the thing. This…" He pulls on his clothes. "Is just dressing. That's what I've learned. I can change my clothes and stance, but it never changes who I am or what I stand for. There's a sense of empowerment in knowing that."

"I guess that makes sense." My mind chews on his words, working through their meaning.

Ben walks closer. "There are some things in life that can't be analyzed. Don't overthink things. I'm still me."

"Okay." I'm not sure there's anything else to say, I know he's right. Underneath it all, Ben has always been Ben.

"You ready?" Edward's voice rings out, looking between us warily. "What's going on?" He's wearing jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. The hood is placed strategically over a baseball cap helping to conceal his face.

"Nothing, we're just talking. Let's go."

"A car is picking me up in a few, so I'll see you both on the other side. Give Sam hell for me."

Reaching up, I pull Ben into a tight hug. "Watch yourself," I whisper against his ear.

"Always. I'll see you soon."

Edward walks over, standing close to me. "Watch your back, man. Normal protocol for check-in?"

"Until we specify otherwise. Tonight, we need to make plans for the two of you. I get some things in place to help finalize things, especially for Bella."

"For me?"

"You can't come back with Edward, and we're not leaving you alone, so I need to secure a trustworthy escort."

"Escort?" I spit out distastefully.

"A hidden escort," Ben clarifies.

"Fine," I concede begrudgingly, even though I know he's right. It is too dangerous for me to go back alone.

Walking out the door, I look back once more, feeling strange about leaving without him. Ben gives me another brilliant smile and waves.

"Don't worry, Justice. You'll see me soon enough. And just cause I love ya, I'll try not to wreck your house in the meantime."

"I'd appreciate that." Giving him a final wave, I follow Edward to the SUV.

Putting on sunglasses, Edward maneuvers out of the driveway. "Sam's going to be shocked as hell to see me. We need to use that to our advantage as much as possible."

"I agree, the more we can keep him off kilter the better. He's a control freak."

"He's a minefield though, so we'll need to tread carefully."

"What do you mean?" I angle my body towards him.

"Like you said, keeping him off his game is going to help, but we also don't want to go too far. You're probably like an open wound for him. If we push too much, we'll lose him."

"Got it." I acknowledge, understanding the delicate nature of this dance. It's similar to cross examining a witness on the stand. You want them to trip up, but only enough to use to your advantage.

"And just so we're clear, if he starts to lose it, I _will_ take you out of that room. I'm not going to let him get to you again." He glances over, his face affirming the seriousness of his words.

Nodding, I focus my attention on the road; it's not worth arguing against his concern. The rest of the drive is silent, a combination of being lost in our own thoughts and not sure what else to say. I'm surprised when Edward abruptly pulls off the freeway. We are still outside of the city in an area that is industrial and rural.

"Diego's been here?" I ask puzzled, the location a little too coincidental.

"No, he was moved when we captured Sam."

"Isn't that risky?"

"We had it under control. Besides, the kid needed to be shaken up a bit. However, this is going to be their home for quite some time. Keeping them out of San Francisco is the best plan right now."

Edward guides the SUV around what looks like an abandoned factory, before turning down an alley. Pulling into a parking lot, I'm surprised by the normality of the location. The building just looks like an abandoned warehouse. I guess I was expecting barbed-wire fences and large gates.

"Don't let the exterior fool you, this place is more secure than most prisons," Edward comments, shutting off the engine. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Stepping out, I watch as one of the doors swing open revealing several men in riot gear and holding assault rifles. Edward calmly stalks forward, acknowledging them with a flash of his badge. The lack of alarm by his presence suggests that they've seen him before.

Leading me down a brightly lit hallway, we pass several other guards. The hallway seems to go on forever, my anticipation making the walk feel endless. Finally turning left, Edward guides us to a large metal door. Opening it, he waves me into a make shift interrogation room. The only thing in the room is a small table, surrounded by three metal chairs. I follow Edward as he walks to the side of the table furthest away from the door. Motioning me to sit, he maneuvers another chair around until it is sitting next to mine, the legs scrapping loudly as he drags it against the floor. The third he leaves across from us.

"Show time," Edward announces.

"It's eerie here," I observe offhandedly. The stark nature of the building makes me feel ill at ease.

"It is truly a holding 'cell'," Edward notes. "Prisoners of the CIA are like ghosts, which means there are no rules to follow. You don't need a prison to make life hard."

"Clearly," I mutter, looking around the plain cement room.

Before Edward can comment further, we hear a knock. Sitting up straighter, the door opens and two men escort Sam into the room. He's in a blue jumpsuit and waist chains, his sandal covered feet shuffling awkwardly. Edward reaches his arm behind me, casually laying it on the back of my chair, a deliberate smirk plastered on his face.

Sam looks up, smiling suddenly when he sees me, until his eyes drift to Edward. Encased in heavy handcuffs, I watch as his fists clench until his knuckles turn white.

"Hiya, Sam," Edward taunts. "It's time to have a little chat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in two weeks. :)


	17. Chapter 16: Breathe Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome back everyone. I was horrible last chapter with responding to reviews, so I want to send a huge thank you to each and every one of you. I love reading all of your words and thoughts. I know I have mentioned it before, but they truly do keep me going when I'm sure I'll never make the next posting schedule. I also appreciate anyone who has rec'ed this story, I can't tell you how much it means to me!
> 
> This chapter owes a huge debt of gratitude to LostInPA, who helped to make sure the tone was right.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 16: Breathe Me

_"Your soulmate is not someone who comes into your life peacefully. It is who comes to make you question things, who changes your reality, someone that marks a before and after in your life. It is not the human being that everyone has idealized, but an ordinary person, who manages to revolutionize your world in a second."_

_Anonymous_

* * *

"Hiya, Sam," Edward taunts. "It's time to have a little chat."

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" Sam's nostrils flare, his face heated by the presence of his self-identified rival.

The stoic guards push him forward and into the chair in front of us. Sam struggles, pushing and pulling against their hold, all the while glaring at Edward. My stomach churns at the sight.

"How's the shoulder? I hear gunshot wounds hurt like a bitch," Edward taunts, ignoring Sam's question.

I can see the outline of gauze through the paper-thin material of his jumpsuit. It's covering his entire shoulder, and I'm surprised that his arm isn't in a sling. Although, keeping him comfortable is probably not high on their priority list.

Sam twists in the chair, angling towards me in an effort to snub Edward's jab. His eyes look dark and tired. "Why is he with you? How many times do I need to tell you to stay away from him?"

He tries to reach out, but the waist chains limit his movement to a few inches. Undeterred, he stretches his fingers out, seemingly waiting for me to reach across and grab them. The delusional audacity of his behavior is disturbing. He's acting as if nothing has changed, as if he didn't try to kill me while confessing to my father's murder.

"I wanted to meet you," Edward jumps in, not allowing Sam's attention to linger on me. "The brilliant mastermind who fooled the FBI." The hold around my shoulder tightens, his fingers purposefully caressing my skin.

"Really," Sam scoffs, his eyes fixated on Edward's movements.

"The dedication it must have taken to pull it off. You're one of their top people, and yet you worked against them the entire time. It's impressive."

"I'm better than most," he agrees hesitantly. I imagine he's trying to figure out Edward's angle.

From a purely academic standpoint, it's fascinating to watch them manipulate the conversation, each trying to bait the other. I already knew that Sam was impressive in an interrogation room, but Edward clearly has skills as well. Under different circumstances, outwitting Sam's controlled pretenses would be forefront in my mind. Today, however, I see a desperation in his eyes, a sign of his unraveling psyche.

"Like I said, impressive. In fact—" Edward lifts his hands to clap slowly, "we should give you a round of applause." The sarcasm drips from his words.

The tension between the two men builds as Sam's anger slowly boils over, the chains rattling loudly as he struggles against them. "You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of," he hisses, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward.

Edward nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. "I don't think I have a lot to worry about. I mean look at you, sitting there wounded and shackled."

"Don't underestimate me." Sam's voice is low, the underlying threat clear.

Edward laughs loudly. "Do you actually think that _you_ could impress _me_? You're caught! Not to mention that you were incredibly stupid for leaving all that evidence behind. It's amazing to me that you think anyone would be impressed by that, especially Bella."

"Shut up," Sam growls, his body shaking with rage.

"Sorry to tell you this, but she never would have given you the time of day. 'Chump' is not high on her list of desired traits in a romantic partner." Edward tightens his arm, smirking triumphantly at Sam.

"Shut the fuck up, Cullen! You don't know anything about my relationship with Bella!" Sam focuses on me again. "Why is he here? Is he blackmailing you?"

The vacillating nature of his behavior is astounding. In one breath, he wants us to recognize his brilliance, and then in the next, he's talking to me like a protective FBI agent and friend. His unpredictable thought process makes it difficult to know how to respond. My mind quickly shifts through different replies, trying to calculate the best outcome. In the end, I decide that catering to his ego is the best route.

"Of course not. You're the holder of important information, Sam. I'm here to listen."

Sam tilts his head, analyzing my words. "You can't trust him. He just wants to get ahead of Biers. He doesn't care about you."

I suddenly realize that with Sam fixating on Edward's interaction with me, he hasn't even considered why Edward has authorization to be in a CIA secured facility, let alone know about the evidence left behind in the apartment. Yet another sign that his usually keen mind is not effectively tracking his situation.

"Desperation is not a good look on you," Edward chuckles. "The better man won, accept it."

"You didn't come here for information, you came to gloat," Sam snarls. "Don't think for one second that this is over. You're in for a rude awakening, Cullen. Just wait."

" _Again_ I ask from who? You? Biers? I think I've got things covered, especially now."

"What going to happen, Sam?" I ask calmly, trying to appease to the side of him that wants me to listen.

He looks at me wide-eyed, as if surprised himself that he alluded to anything. "You need to stay away from him. He's manipulating you, Bella," he shrieks, perseverating on his earlier argument.

He's obviously past the point of reasoning. I need to push in a different direction if we have any hope of getting anywhere. "And you didn't manipulate me?" I sit back, crossing my arms defiantly.

Sam blinks, taken aback by the blunt question. "Not like he does."

"You killed my father and tried to use my grief to ruin Riley's case!" I yell. "In what reality is that not worse than Edward using me to talk to you?"

"Oh, I think she's got you there. My discretions aren't even close to yours. No wonder she keeps coming back to me." Edward delights with a wide smile.

Ignoring him, Sam frantically tries to get me to understand. "But that changed after we met."

"Because I fascinated you," I spit out, still disgusted by his warped rational.

"People rarely surprise me. It makes things incredibly boring." He scans me with a wistful smile. "You never did what I expected. It frustrated the hell out of me, but made me feel alive too. The more you did it, the more I needed you. Don't you see, Bella, we belong together?"

"Belong together?" I shout incredulously. "You mean until you kill me, right?"

"No!" He shakes his head vehemently. "I just want you to understand."

"Like Katie? Did you want her to understand too?" His eyes darken at the mention of her name. Leaning over, I hit the table with my index finger, punctuating my repulsion. "One way or another it would have ended badly because I would have _never_ submitted to you or your sick desires."

"She wasn't who I thought she was! She didn't even try!" Sam tries to stand up, but stops when one of the guards places a hand on his shoulder.

"So you ended her," Edward states, jumping back into the conversation.

"Because she didn't respond the way that _you_ wanted," I add.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Sam sneers, focusing his deadly eyes on Edward.

"I saw the pictures, Sam, remember?" Sam continues to ignore me, aiming all of his attention at Edward.

"Yes, let's talk about those pictures," Edward utters, unaffected by Sam's attempt to intimidate him. "I hear you like to cut up little girls, Sam."

"I've got nothing to say about that." Sam's leg starts to bounce, his wrists twisting in the cuffs.

Edward nods his head, although his face suggests that he's not backing down. "Well, I've heard guys like that have personal issues." He blatantly moves his eyes towards Sam's lap. "Is that what it is? Can't get it up so you have to take it out on prostitutes? The only girls that will give you the time of day?"

"You son of a bitch!" Sam jumps up and tries to climb over the table before the guards slam him back into the chair.

Edward jumps up too, standing to his full height. "You don't want to test me." His lethal tone bounces off the stark walls. "You have no idea what _I'm_ capable of either."

Struggling against his captors, Sam laughs sadistically. "And who are you? Nobody! You're just a wannabe. A wannabe who doesn't hold a candle to the power his grandfather wielded."

"And you're not?" Edward asks calmly, although the icy edge in his voice is hard to ignore.

"Damn straight! Biers, the FBI, I fucking fooled them all."

"You know what I find interesting about this game." Edward nonchalantly reaches in to his back pocket. "Is how quickly it can change." Taking out his badge, he lets it fall loudly on the table, Sam's eyes widening when he sees it.

"You're a spook?"

"Looks like you're not the only one who can fool people, Fibbie."

"I always knew there was something off about your background," Sam jeers.

Edward barks out a sarcastic laugh before sitting back down. "Please, you had no clue until I told you. And that's why you, and everyone else involved with Riley is going down. Didn't you wonder why you were here instead of lock-up? You just don't see that you're one tiny piece of a much larger operation."

"That's bullshit. You have me here because you need information," Sam counters. "You know I have inside knowledge into Riley's world."

"You sure about that? I mean come on, Riley clearly didn't find you invaluable, so why would we?" Edward continues to dig, relentlessly challenging his ego, and by Sam's facial expression, I would say his tactic is working.

"Riley is as clueless as the rest of them. He wants to control the whole fucking world, and yet his world is teetering."

I stop myself from glancing towards Edward, not wanting to give away that this is exactly the information we need. "How is it teetering? He's been expanding, that's why DOJ wants to prosecute," I point out.

Sam finally acknowledges me. "And the reason that didn't go anywhere was because of me. _Not_ Riley."

"But _he_ recruited _you_. Doesn't that make you the puppet?" Edward asks derisively.

"Please. He may have recruited me, but I called the shots." Sam tries to sit up straight, but the guards have yet to release their grip.

"If he was so clueless, why did he send Alec to kill you?" I inquire, challenging his argument.

"Alec? He's just a thug in designer clothes." Sam criticizes, deftly avoiding the point of the question. "Riley relies on him too much. Thinks of him as his secret weapon, but the guy's a loose cannon."

"Hiring a 'loose cannon' doesn't strike me as Biers' style." Edward comments coolly. He and I both know that we need information on Alec if we have any hopes of tracking him down. However, part of the dance is not letting Sam know how badly we want it.

"Exactly! And with all the shit that Riley is planning, the last thing he needs is an asshole like Alec calling the shots. Fucking prick."

"Seems like there's no love lost between the two of you. He wasn't too impressed with you either," I challenge.

"You can't listen to anything he said. The guy's crazy, Bella." Sam retorts quickly, the thin veil of desperation once again coloring his words.

"He seemed perfectly sane to me." _A freaking psychopath, but sane._

Sam unexpectedly kicks the table. Luckily, the heavy steel is unforgiving and barely shakes. "You have no idea what you're talking about! He would have killed you without thinking twice."

Glancing between the two of us, Edward jumps in, steering Sam's attention back towards him. "One thing's for sure, he certainly left you high and dry. My guess is he ran for the hills. Riley can't be too pleased that he let you get caught."

Sam's eyes narrow. "What do you mean? Alec's not here?"

Edward subtly shifts his eyes towards me, apparently just as surprised as I am that he didn't know. "No one told you?"

"No," Sam hisses, struggling again against the two guards.

Recovering, Edward laughs. "Priceless. Tell me again how you fooled everyone?"

Sam's looks around wildly, his eyes unfocused. "Bastard probably ran back to that Oakland hell hole. They think they can take me down, but I can out maneuver them any day, especially with the fucking stupid decision they are about to make. They don't know."

"So Alec's sticking around to help with Riley's plan?" Edward asks, leaning forward trying to look him in the eye. Sam still stares past us, mumbling. We're losing him. "Sam! Is that why?"

Tracking again, Sam looks at Edward. "What?"

"Alec's a part of Riley's plan?"

"Riley needs his connections."

"What connections?" I inquire, trying to sort through the pieces of information Sam is throwing out.

"I kept telling him that it was the wrong move, but he's convinced it's the way to get control back."

"Control back from who?" His waning control has weakened his verbal filters, but if he doesn't give us details, this word salad will be worthless.

"The Asian gangs are turning on him. If he loses his hold over the docks, he loses his credibility. Fucking Alec claims that he can bring him the Mexican Mafia."

"To do what?" Edward asks.

"Create chaos. Riley's going to make a deal with them so they will start pushing into Asian territory. While his former associates are distracted, Riley plans to take control of it all." He looks over at me with a tight smile. "We both know that's not how shit goes down in good old San Fran, especially in China Town."

My head spins, if what he's saying is true, it will evoke an all-out war. The Asian gangs are probably the most violent, but the Mexican Mafia is the most organized. Since the southern Hispanic gangs report to them, starting a war in the north will cause problems with every other gang in the bay area. The result will be lots of blood spilt and innocent lives lost in the crossfire.

Shaking his head, Sam tries to plead with me. "I can help, Bella. You know I can. You and me, we can bring Riley down. That's what your father was trying to do. You could do it for him."

I jump back in my chair, his words a virtual slap to my face. "You're crazy." Edward places his arm around my shoulder again, although this time I suspect it has nothing to do with taunting Sam. " _You_ killed my father you sick bastard. I don't want anything to do with you!"

"It needed to happen, don't you see that? We would have never met if I hadn't killed him. It's destiny."

"Oh my God," I whisper, the twisted nature of his delusion sickening.

"Get him out of here," Edward growls to the guards.

"Bella. Bella!" Sam screams as they pull him out of the chair. "Don't let them do this! _Bella_! We belong together." The door slams shut after they drag him out, but I can still hear his voice echoing down the hallway.

Standing up, I walk over to the wall in an effort to reign in my emotions. The hatred I feel towards him is like nothing I've ever experienced. Trying to regulate my breath, I feel Edward behind me. Gently turning me around, he folds me into his arms, his warmth helping to calm my shaking body.

"You okay?"

"I will be," I whisper against his chest. "I hate him." Edward pulls me closer, his strength wrapping around me.

Hearing a knock on the door, we separate, watching as a petite brunette wearing a suit and badge walks in. "Well that was interesting," she states, walking over and leaning on the side of the table closest to us. "But I'll be damned if your theory wasn't correct. That's the most he's said since we moved him here."

"Hey, Angela." Edward smiles and walks over to give her a quick hug. "Bella, this is Angela Weber. She's one of the agents who works with me. Angela this is Bella," he says with a smile.

"Bella, it's an honor." She reaches out her hand for me to shake, her grasp firm.

"Nice to meet you," I say, before looking at Edward. "I thought Ben was your contact?"

"Oh he is," Angela answers. "I'm the person who usually analyzes all of his intel. In fact, if I'm remembering correctly, this is only the third time we've met face to face. Right, Edward?"

"That sounds about right."

"Oh," I respond, perplexed by their easygoing relationship given they rarely interact.

"The CIA is a crazy place," she explains. "Edward and I talk mostly through notes, code and Ben, but after three years, it's easy to feel like you've known that person forever."

"She's good people," Edward maintains.

"We appreciate you going through that, Bella. It couldn't have been easy."

"I wanted to," I maintain. "I want this to be over."

"So do we, and because of you, we have some new leads."

"Oakland?" Edward questions.

"We're coordinating with local law enforcement to start searching. If Alec really has ties to the Mexican Mafia, there aren't too many neighborhoods he can stay in, which will help, but there's still a lot of ground to cover."

"If Sam called it a hell hole, you can also rule out any nicer areas. Sam's a clean freak, so dirt and graffiti are like his kryptonite," I remark sarcastically.

Angela looks at me strangely. "It' not like his apartment was in The Highlands."

"Right, but look at the state of his apartment, it was spotless. The location was by necessity not choice."

"She's right," Edward adds. "Let's focus on run down neighborhoods first."

"I'll call the team," she gives me a bright smile. "Ben was right, you're definitely an asset."

"Thanks," I smile shyly, appreciative, but embarrassed by compliment. I wonder what else Ben shared. "What happens to Sam now?"

"We keep pushing, to see what else he knows. Now that we know you are a trigger, we can use that to our advantage."

"What about Diego?" Edward asks.

"Nothing new there, although this gang connection is an angle we haven't pursued. That might be how Alec recruited him."

"He won't give that information up easily. It's in their code not to talk and Diego has to know that they control the prisons. He's a dead man if he admits to any activity."

"We could offer him a deal to get him out of the state. He's not that sophisticated, so my gut tells me that he'd jump at the chance to leave." Angela pulls a notebook out of her back pocket, scribbling a quick note.

"Sounds like you've got lots to do. We should head back," Edward says, placing his hand on the small of my back.

"Wait, you're wanted in the briefing room first," Angela's announcement swiftly changes the tone of the room.

"Great," Edward grumbles. "I was hoping I could avoid that. Come on, Bella, I'll introduce you to the stiffs of this operation.

"Not so fast," Angela adds. "Bella and I have some business of our own. You run along and I'll bring her by when we're done."

"What business?" I question nervously.

"Ben made arrangements for me to shadow you until you get back to San Francisco."

"You're my escort?" I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn't her.

"Is that going to be a problem?" she asks sternly.

"Not at all," I state quickly, deciding that I like her already.

"Good." She smirks. "Now, run along, Edward. We'll be just fine."

"Thanks," he scoffs. "These meetings are why I hate coming in." He pulls me into a quick hug. "I'll see you soon. You're in good hands, Angela knows what she doing."

"Have fun," I mock, acutely aware of his reluctance to go. Nodding, he walks out the door, glancing behind him before shutting it.

"That man has it bad," Angela announces as soon as the door clicks.

"What?"

"Edward's one of the most emotionally controlled people I know, but around you…well, I'll just say he's completely different."

"Oh," I say simply, not wanting to open the door any further on that particular topic. There's too much that I need to figure out on my own before I can discuss our 'relationship' with a virtual stranger.

Crossing her arms, she appraises me before clearing her throat. "Okay then. Let's get started."

* * *

After a long couple of hours of strategy meetings, Edward and I wearily make our way back to the SUV. Given the new intel about Riley, everyone agrees that Edward needs to continue to push against Riley's business interests. If he is losing ground in San Francisco, this will add to his desperation to regain control. With everyone working against him, it should only be a matter of time before he makes a mistake.

My meeting with Angela went well. Tomorrow, she is going to bring my car to the house so that I can drive it back when Sam is reported missing. We are estimating that it will take a couple of days, at least, for that to happen. My car and phone are now equipped with electronic trackers so that the CIA can easily monitor my movements, while Angela and another agent will also be following me, watching for any suspicious activity.

We found out that the CIA is hoping that my open exposure will bring Alec out of hiding. Although I'll never admit, the plan makes me a bit nervous. Angela guarantees that he won't get close to me, but I'm not naïve enough to believe in absolute guarantees. On the plus side, I guess I'll get plenty of practice playing the role of bait, even before I return.

Edward's mood has been foul ever since his discussion with the so-called "stiffs". After meeting them myself, I can understand the term. Edward's frustration built as they went over the plan for my return. Being in that room while they discussed it had to be like one of his nightmares coming true.

"I still don't like it," he complains, starting the SUV.

"I'm not jumping up and down either, but I'll do it to get Alec. If any of what Sam said is true, then all hell is about the break loose. If there's a chance we can stop it, we have no choice."

"I know, I know," Edward concedes. "But my instinct will always be to protect you. I can't help it."

Reaching over, I place my hand over his, squeezing gently. "Thank you."

At a stalemate and lost in thought, the hum of the tires on the road becomes the only sound as we make our way back. Close to the turn off, my phone breaks through the pensive silence, notifying me of a text. Glancing at the screen, my breath hitches in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks.

"Rose is asking me if I've heard from Sam."

"That was quick."

"I guess the timetable for leaving just sped up." Holding up my phone, I glance over for guidance. "How should I approach this?"

"Play it casual. Just remember that you have no reason to be concerned about Sam."

"Okay." Typing out a quick message, I simply tell her that I haven't heard from him.

Almost immediately after I send it, the phone dings again. "What did she say?" Edward asks.

"She's just clarifying that I've haven't heard from him at all."

"Now ask why," he suggests.

Doing as requested, I send off the message waiting for her response. This time it takes a bit longer. "She says he didn't report to a meeting today, and the bureau can't find him."

"Express concern, and ask her to keep you in the loop. If she doesn't text you by tonight, follow up and ask for an update. That should lead nicely into you deciding to come back tomorrow."

"Got it," I mutter, typing out another text. "I feel bad lying to her."

"I know." Edward flips his hand over to intertwine our fingers. "But hopefully this will all be over soon."

"Yeah, hopefully." I look out the window, trying to convince myself that I'm doing the right thing.

"I'll call Angela when we get back and let her know. I also need to arrange for my return. So much for a quiet evening alone," Edward jokes uneasily.

"Alone," I murmur, realizing for the first time that we will have the house to ourselves. Untangling my hand from his, I try not to think about the long night ahead with no distractions or buffers.

Pulling into the driveway, and up to the garage, Edward clears his throat. "Umm, I need to check in with Kate and see how it's going with that property. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm feeling a bit drained. I think I'm going to try to take a nap. These last few days have wreaked havoc with my sleep."

"That's a good idea. We need you to be on your best game," Edward asserts, shutting of the engine and stepping out of the car.

"Yes, Sir," I quip with a sarcastic salute following him.

"Mock me all you want, but lack of sleep makes you punchy." Swinging open the door, he waves me through.

"And that is why I'm going to take my leave," I say with a bow. _Maybe I'm already punchy_. "Good luck with your phone calls."

"Thanks. I hope you're able to rest." Edward clenches his keys while inspecting the floor.

We stand uncomfortably in the entryway, neither us quite ready to go, but also not knowing what else to say. "Will you tell me what you find out?"

"Of course. I have nothing to hide. I meant it when I said no more secrets."

"Good." Edward continues to try to prove his sincerity, and with each act, it makes it easier to believe him.

Dragging myself up to my room, my body feels heavy, my eyes burning with the desire to close. I didn't realize how much that conversation took out of me until I allowed myself to let my guard down. Stepping out of my shoes, I almost crash before my head hits the pillow, the sweet sensation of sleep pulling me into blissful unawareness, where I don't have to think or find solutions to unsolvable problems.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes, it's dark outside. Stretching, I hear the sound of muted jazz playing somewhere downstairs. Curious and refreshed, I get up to investigate. Hitting the bottom of the stairs, an amazing smell invades my senses and guides me towards the kitchen. Turning the corner, I spot Edward by the stove preparing some sort of dish. My wavering heart immediately reacts to the vision before me.

Standing barefoot in faded jeans and a white tee shirt, Edward moves in time with the music, his left foot tapping to the beat. If I were to take a picture and post it, I'm sure it would fuel fantasies for days to come. Taking a breath and ignoring the magnetic pull between us, I quietly walk into the kitchen.

Edward remains engrossed in his task and completely oblivious to my presence. "What are you making?" I ask, holding back laughter when he jumps.

"Jesus." Spinning around he flashes a crooked smile, dramatically holding his hand over his chest. "Give me a heart attack why don't you."

Walking over to the counter, I hoist myself up, somehow feeling on more of an even ground when we are eye to eye. "Really? Big bad CIA Edward is scared of little old me?"

"Terrified," he whispers, with a tiny grin, although he can't hide the seriousness within his emerald depths.

"Well, lucky for you, you're currently not at the top of my hit list," I joke, trying to keep the tone light. We've done serious too much lately, and I want a break. "So you didn't answer me. What are you cooking?"

"Roast, mashed potatoes, and then I was thinking about doing a salad. Nothing major."

"Sounds great. I'm starving."

"Good." Edward smiles. Grabbing a bottle of Merlot, he pours me a glass and walks it over. "Wine?"

"Yes," I whisper, our fingers brushing when he hands it to me. Taking a sip, I close my eyes, letting the music sweep me away.

"Beautiful," The word barely reaches my ears, and for a moment, I think I imagined it until I open my eyes and see Edward staring at me intently.

Caught, his face flushes as he quickly turns back to the stove. Grabbing the pot, he carefully walks it over to a colander in the sink.

"Can I help?" I ask, hoping to move us past his embarrassment.

Pouring the boiled potatoes into the colander, he shakes the water out and dumps them back into the pot. "Umm, I've got it. Just relax."

"Don't be silly. I can finish those while you do the salad. Mashed potatoes are actually one of my specialties." They were one of the things I loved to cook for my dad during holidays.

Not waiting for him to agree, I jump down and snatch the pot out of his hands. Placing it back on the stove, I walk over to the refrigerator and pull out butter and milk. Edward remains in the same spot, seemingly taken aback by my aggressive move.

Shaking his head, he laughs and walks over to open one of the drawers. "I should warn you that we only have this measly hand mixer to mash them," Edward challenges, lifting the aging contraception with a smirk.

"Not a problem," I declare, flexing my arm muscles. "Give me that thing."

Raising his eyebrow, Edward hands it over. "Okay then, have at it."

As I mash the potatoes with the inefficient mixer, Edward puts together the salad and sets the table. Every now and then, he stops behind me, peering over my shoulder. When he does it for the fourth time, I call him out.

"Do you need something?" I ask, swinging around.

"Um, no. It's just…" he hesitates, biting his lip. "They'll mash easier if you add a little more milk."

"I know what I'm doing, Edward. Don't worry they'll be fine."

He starts to walk away but stops. "There's also less of a chance for lumps when you add more milk."

"They taste the same with or without lumps," I argue, turning my back to him before he can challenge me further. Several seconds pass before I feel him hovering again. "This is really bothering you isn't it?" I glance over my shoulder at his pinched face.

"Did you find the salt and pepper?" he asks, trying to take the subject off him.

"The guy takes cooking lessons and all of a sudden he's a food critic," I grumble under my breath, adding more salt with dramatic hand gestures. "Need I remind you, that you used to burn toast, Mr. Snooty."

"No, but once you taste how amazing something can be, it's hard to go back," he comments, watching the mixer intently. When it hits a lump, I purposely move it before it can finish the job just to watch him cringe. "If you want I can finish."

"Touch this mixer and lose a hand," I retort, focusing on the pot, refusing to look at him.

"Sorry, I guess I've been cooking for myself for so long that I've gotten kind of picky."

"You don't say," I murmur, sarcastically.

Almost immediately, he adds, "you might want to add more butter too." Turning with narrowed eyes, I see him look down sheepishly. "Sorry, that just came out."

Struck by a childish desire, I dig the mixer deeper into the pot, trying to pierce him with my gaze. "No, it's a fair question." I carefully lift up the loaded mixer and tighten my grip. "Why don't you tell me? Do they need more butter?" Without hesitation, I fling the mixer forward watching as bits of mashed potatoes cover him.

He stands frozen, potatoes dripping from his face and plopping on the floor. "Did you actually just throw food at me?"

"Yeah, I think I did." Noticing a particularly large lump on his face, I stroll over and pick it off. "Hmm, what do you know, maybe it _is_ too lumpy."

"Uh huh," Edward mutters, walking over to the table. Reaching into the salad bowl, he pulls out some chopped tomatoes.

"What are you doing?" I question, backing up with hands raised.

"Tit for tat, baby," he says with a wolfish grin.

"Hey, I was just doing the cooking world a service by taking you down a peg." My back bumps into the counter, trapping me.

Edward continues his painstaking approach. "I don't agree, Swan. I think you started something that I need to finish."

As he gets closer, I quickly step to the side in an attempt to move around him. However, before I get far, his arm grabs me around the waist, pulling me towards him. At the same time, his other hand comes around and smashes the tomatoes on my head, the sticky juice running down my face and neck.

"Augghh." Squirming out of his reach, I run my hand through my hair to remove the chunks. "You, ass," I reprimand, although it's hard to keep from smiling. Not ready to let him off the hook, I turn and run to the sink. "I should help you wash off the potatoes." Pulling out the hose, I point it at him.

"Don't you dare," Edward warns.

Before he can stop me, I flip on the water and spray him. He rushes forward to grab the hose out of my hand. The twisting and turning of our bodies causes the water to spray me just as much as it does him. Shrieking laughter fills the kitchen as we battle for control, the floor getting wet and slippery.

"Give it up, Cullen, I'm not letting go," I yell breathlessly, turning my body, trying to leverage the hose out of his hand.

"Never," he whispers into my ear, somehow finding a way to tickle me too.

"Oh, God, stop!" I giggle, trying not to give up control of the hose. Frantically trying to avoid his tortuous tickling, my feet suddenly slip out from under me.

Almost in slow motion, I feel myself starting to fall, Edward tightens his hold, but my awkward position throws him off balance, his feet slipping too. Losing our grip, the hose springs free and slams into its holder as our bodies fall to the floor. My breath painfully rushes out as my back crashes into the floor and Edward falls onto my chest.

Quickly shifting his weight, Edward looks down concerned. "Are you all right?" His hand sweeps my hair back, his eyes carefully evaluating my face. It's hard to answer with the wind still knocked out of me, so I simply nod. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I whisper. "Just give me a minute."

Edward continues to stroke my hair. There are still some potatoes by his ear, and his hair is dripping wet. The ridiculous nature of the situation hits me, and I can't help the laughter that bubbles up with my returning breath.

"Did we really just have a food fight?" Edward asks between his own laughter.

"Yes we did. Does this mean we've finally cracked?"

Edward pulls his hand back from my head, shaking off a tomato that tangled in his fingers. "No," he exhales with a brilliant smile. "I think maybe we're finally coming back to life."

Reaching up, I gently brush the lingering food off, his eyes closing as he leans into my touch. "You still had some potatoes on your face." My voice is gruff, my emotions getting the better of me. Reaching around towards the back of his head, my fingers automatically play with the strands of his hair. It feels familiar and comforting.

"Bella," Edward breaths.

I feel the weight of his body as he leans down, inch by inch, his lips moving closer until his breath tickles my skin. Time seems to stand still as the electricity builds around us. His eyes watch me carefully, waiting for me to stop him. Instead, I close mine, silently giving him permission to continue.

Finally, his lips nudge mine. Teasing and taunting, we melt together, a sultry moan filling the air. His tongue tantalizingly begs entrance, taking our kiss deeper. With a primal growl, Edward rolls us over, giving me control. Sitting up, I run my hands down his chest, caressing his toned muscle along the way. Eagerly, Edward reaches up to pull my lips to his once again.

When his fingers ghost along the hem of my shirt, warning bells finally break through the intensity of the moment. Logically, I know that jumping back into a physical relationship will only complicate all the work we need to do, no matter how right it feels.

"Wait, wait," I whisper, sliding off him.

"Sorry," Edward says quickly, sitting up and running his hands through his hair.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who let things get out of control. We're just getting ahead of ourselves. I mean—" My thoughts are jumbled, and I'm finding it difficult to remember my initial argument.

"No, I get it." He takes my hand, gently entwining our fingers. "I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize us, no matter how badly I want you."

Physically on fire and completely embarrassed, it's hard to look him in the eye. "I guess we should get this cleaned up," I sigh, glancing around the kitchen.

"And finish making dinner."

"Oh yeah, dinner." I had almost forgotten about what we were supposed to be doing. "Okay, you salvage dinner, and I'll clean up."

"Go team," he cheers, but the emotion behind the words is lacking. Standing, he holds out his hand to help me up. Moving around him to find a mop, I stop when he unexpectedly grabs my arm. "Are we okay?" he asks nervously.

"We're okay." I smile trying to reassure him. This one was on me. Apparently, I've lost all self-control around him.

"Good, good," he whispers, letting me go and walking over to the troublesome pot of potatoes that started it all.

With the assistance of Jazz, the awkwardness of our encounter thankfully passes quickly. To the sounds of John Coltrane's, "My One and Only Love", Edward and I move around the kitchen completing our tasks. As the music shifts to "Take Five", we finally sit down to eat, toasting to future fortunes by candlelight. And with "Embarcadero Blues" in the background, we spend dinner catching up on the mundane rather than discussing the case.

The highs and lows of each notes take me on an emotional journey, reminding me of the good times we shared. Whether it was the wine, food, music, or a combination of all three, somehow the ease of our banter returned. I'd forgotten how much I've missed it, and I find myself hoping that it remains even after the evening ends.

Feeling content and full, I lean back against the chair and close my eyes, letting the sultry sounds of "Body and Soul" wash over me. Suddenly, I sense Edward's presence close by. Opening my eyes, I see him standing there with an out-stretched hand.

"Dance with me?" he whispers with his heart on his sleeve.

Too relaxed to overthink his request, I place my hand in his, allowing him to pull me into his arms. Laying my head on his chest, our bodies move in time with the soulful saxophone. Closing my eyes, I savor the simplicity of the moment, and the sensations around us. Edward inhales deeply and rests his chin on my head. Within the comfort of his arms, it's hard to remember why this is wrong.

Memories of our life together floods back as we continue to sway to the music, the feeling his body so close to mine sending shivers down my spine. "Do you still play?" I ask, remembering the passionate description of his love of jazz and blues.

"Not as much as I used to."

"Why not?"

"It's been difficult to find the time. I…" his words trail off for a moment. "Actually, the truth is that I just don't. I want to keep that part of myself separate."

"What do you mean?" I ask, pulling back to look at his face.

"Music has always been mine, and an important part of who I am. I didn't want that tainted by the person I have to pretend to be."

"Oh." His explanation makes me sad. "You should start playing again."

He looks down with an intoxicating smile, the candlelight creating a soft glow around him. "Maybe I will."

We continue to turn slowly, when suddenly an unanswered question pops into my head. "Why did you learn the standing bass?"

"What?"

"On our first date, you said that you had just learned how to play it. I always thought there was a story there, but you never talked about it again."

Edward chuckles. "I can't believe you remember that. You're not going to believe this, but it was actually a dare from Ben."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. I'd made some smart ass comment about being able to play anything, which somehow lead to a stupid bet…I blame the alcohol," he laughs. "Anyway, I lost and not only had to learn it, but I had to play at an open mic night."

"Wow!"

"The joke was on him though because, much to his chagrin, I picked it up easily and received a standing ovation."

Laughing, I can imagine the frustrated look on Ben's face. He hates to lose. "That's hilarious. I'll have to remember that little titbit of information the next time he tries to gives me grief." Laying my head back against his chest, I stifle a yawn.

"You should go to bed," Edward suggests. "You've got a long drive ahead of you tomorrow."

"I should take a shower first. For some reason, I feel all sticky." I looking up, I give him a pointed look, holding up my now stiff hair.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"No you're not," I challenge, stepping out of his arms.

"You're right, I'm not. You should have seen the look on your face." Edward winks and walks back to the table to start piling up the dishes.

I help him clear the table before walking towards the stairs. Edward silently follows behind, both of us unsure about how to end this evening. I feel like we've taken some huge steps forward, but it also feels like there is so much further to go.

Stepping on bottom step, I turn around to face him. "I hope you sleep well."

"Me too," he whispers. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"I do," I answer quietly. "Well, I should…" I trail off gesturing to the stairs behind me.

"Yeah, I should finishing cleaning up." Hesitating for several seconds, he finally turns back towards the kitchen.

Watching him, I fight my own selfish desire to follow, knowing that nothing good would come from it. Abruptly, Edward stops and swings around, his now determined eyes piercing mine. With purposeful strides, he reaches me quickly, our lips crashing together, the act desperate and intense. Breathless we separate, his forehead leaning against mine.

"I love you," he whispers. "Sleep well." With a final soft kiss, he walks away again.

Lifting my hand, I caress my lips, the warmth of his touch remaining. Against my best efforts, Edward is slowly deconstructing all of my barriers, making it harder and harder to keep him at a distance. There is no doubt that my feelings for him run deep, they always have. Nevertheless, should I really put my heart…my trust on the line again simply because my traitorous body responses to him so easily?

"Where do I go from here?" I whisper. I guess only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, it's back to San Francisco. ;)


	18. Outtake: Come Out and Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for all the reviews last chapter! I love hearing everyone's thoughts on how quickly our couple should move along. ;)
> 
> Thank you to LostInPA for all of her support and feedback. She is one in a million for sure! I also owe this little outtake to her for sparking the idea.
> 
> Now for a little trip into the dark side. :)

Outtake: Come Out and Play

_"Madness, as you know, is a lot like gravity. All it takes is a little push."_

_The Joker in "The Dark Knight"_

* * *

**Riley's POV**

Some would say that power is defined as the ability or right to control people and events. If that is true, then its essence must surely run through my veins, because the world is my playground and all the people in it my puppets.

Individuals tend to underestimate me, but I've still conquered every arena I've entered, and I've done it with gusto. Yet, it is inevitable that from time to time some mongrel will worm their way out of the woodwork to try to take what is rightfully mine. You would think that by now the lesson would be clear. People should recognize that I am always the master of my own destiny, and if they cross me, I will destroy theirs.

Once again, I feel the tides of resistance rising. My associates in San Francisco have decided to grow some balls, believing that they can challenge my dominance. The sad reality is that they don't know shit about what it takes to govern on the global stage. Their "gangs" may cause fear here, but that means nothing outside of the United States. Alec thinks he has the solution, and for now, I'm letting him indulge in those fantasies. Who knows, maybe he can actually bring something useful to the table.

Staring at the shelves that cover the back wall, my eyes automatically drift to my prized butterfly collection. It's probably one of the best in the world, and the sight always brings me inspiration. Unlike so many of my colleagues, I am not afraid of change. In fact, I embrace it because with each evolution I become stronger. They may think that they have me figured out, that they've tapped into my weakness, but they will all soon learn that I am indestructible.

"Where the fuck are those files!" I shout into the intercom, twirling the wooden handle of an Opinel knife around my fingers. Patience was never my virtue.

The door opens quickly. "Sorry, sir." With her eyes downcast, Bree stumbles into the room. Her anxiety makes me smile. My smile widens when her shaky fingers drop one of the files on the floor indirectly causing her to flash her ample breasts as she bends down to pick it up. She looks up sheepishly just in time to catch me licking my lips. Even though she's brainless, she's certainly a remarkable sight. It almost makes her presence tolerable.

"I don't like waiting." As soon as she's close enough, I snatch the files out of her hands.

"I know, sir." Her face flushes red as she stands there shaking, staring at the knife. Her fear is like a shot of adrenaline, I love knowing that she knows I could kill her at any time.

"I've done you a favor, Bree, by allowing you to work off your family's debt. So, why do you continue to disappoint me?" I lift the knife and point it at her. She's close enough that I can graze the blade down the arm of her sweater, her breath hitching at its mere proximity.

"I-I," she stammers, twisting her fingers around and around. The repetitive motion looks painful.

Her pathetic nature almost makes me want to put her out of her misery right then, but I don't have the time to train another assistant. There are too many other pressing matters. "Get out of here," I growl, pulling the knife back, granting her leniency one last time.

As soon as the door shuts, I spread the files out on my desk to study them, habitually twirling the knife. Side by side, I stare intently at the smiling faces of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen. These two have recently become the bane of my existence, somehow thwarting my plans at every turn. Picking up the glossy photo of Bella, I can certainly see why Sam was fascinated with her.

The thought of him makes my blood boil. "Fucker." The psychopathic asshole will pay as soon as I find him. His extracurricular activities could cost me dearly.

This girl has become more trouble than she's worth. It seemed so simple at the time; cover up Sam's bloody tracks and get the annoyance of pending federal charges off my plate. I could almost taste the sweetness of victory, especially when Bella started to unravel, trying desperately to connect her father's death to me. Then fucking Sam double-crossed me and convinced her to step away from the case. I swear Alec, Sam, and Diego have become the three fucking stooges with the way they botched everything. It just goes to show that the old adage remains true. If you want something done right, you definitely need to do it yourself.

"Where are you hiding, Ms. Swan?" Tracing my fingers around her lips, I wonder briefly, what they might taste like. She certainly is a beauty. "It's time for you and I to get better acquainted."

My contacts deny any knowledge about her or Sam's whereabouts. I know they couldn't have just disappeared. If Alec knows what's good for him, he'll find a lead soon. His job was simple; create a believable murder-suicide crime scene. The timing was impeccable for casting doubt on my involvement, but then _someone_ busted in and ruined it all.

I'll admit I lost my cool when I found out, a brief transgression that will not occur again. It's rare that I don't know when someone is coming for me, but if I know anything, it's that secrets don't stay hidden for long. Someone is bound to talk and when they do, I will be there.

Throwing down the picture, I pick up Edward Cullen's, the man who believes that he can take over my business. He's cunning I'll give him that, but he's not ready to play with the big boys. A lesson I will gladly teach him. He's probably gloating right now after buying a property out from under me. I could have fought harder, but I wanted him to think he was gaining ground. I also hear that he's looking to bid on anything else in my sights. His overconfidence will be his downfall. Now that I've lulled him into a false sense of security, it's time to strike back.

"Pretty boy won't know what hit him," I chuckle, using the knife to mar his face.

Putting his picture next to Bella's, I weigh how they look together. Their unknown history perplexes me, and I find myself anxious to dissect it. Edward clearly harbors deep feelings for her. I could sense it as soon as Edward jumped to her rescue at that benefit. Maybe her sudden disappearance will work to my advantage.

As clear as it is that he cares for her, it's just as clear that she wants nothing to do with him, which makes sense considering their opposing backgrounds. Alec all but confirmed my assumptions, suggesting that they were in the middle of an argument the night he attacked them. I'd hedge my bets that Edward has no clue about her recent trip. A few little tidbits that I might know more than him should be enough to put him on edge. The thought makes me smile. God, I love mind-fucking people.

Alec's name suddenly lights up my phone. "You better have something," I hiss in terms of a greeting. I don't have time for pleasantries.

"Bella just arrived back at her house, boss. And get this, she's alone."

My fingers suddenly stop twirling, the knife almost slipping from my hand. The information throws me. "You're sure she's alone?"

"Yup…well, she drove back alone. There's some guy who's staying at her house, a lawyer from New York."

"Hmm." This is an interesting and unexpected turn. _What shall I do about this unique opportunity?_ My fingers re-start their methodical twirl, helping to focus my mind.

"Seems strange that she would return after what happened," Alec comments, his voice heavy with unspoken suggestions.

"It's hard to know at this point what her angle is, if she even has one. It could be that 'they' are trying to play me, or she refused to stay hidden. Sam said she tended to run her own show. You sure the guy in her house checks out?"

"He's clean from what I can tell. How do you want to play this?"

"Keep your men on her. I want to know everything that she's doing."

"You got it. I've set up that other meeting you wanted too."

"Good. Now stop wasting time and find me Sam!" Slamming the phone down, I hit the intercom. "Bree."

"Yes, sir."

"Set up a party tomorrow night at my favorite club."

"The usual?"

"Yes, but send a special invitation to Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen. I want to make sure they both attend."

"Okay. I'll ensure they have the invites first thing tomorrow morning."

"Perfect," I smirk, slamming the blade into their connected pictures. I think it's time for our little love birds to reunite. "Let the games begin." This should be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Back to Bella, Edward and Ben. :)


	19. Chapter 17: Hazard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for sticking with me. I appreciate all the notifications and reviews! :)
> 
> I owe a huge thank you to LostInPA, who continues to generously give her time to beta this story, even when I need a short turn around. She is also an awesome cheerleader and helps keeps me going.
> 
> Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter. I had some work projects that took all of my writing time over the last couple of weeks. Darn RL anyway. ;)

Chapter 17: Hazard

_"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart."_

_Louise Erdrich_

* * *

"Hello?"

The house is quiet. Stepping over the threshold, I drop my things on the floor and take a moment to look around. I've only been gone a few days, but it feels like forever. I'm glad to be home.

"Ben?" I yell again, moving into the living room and towards the kitchen. That is where I spot him, sitting at the island, earphones covering his ears as he bops along to whatever music is playing on it. When he starts a drum solo with the chopsticks he's holding, I can't help but laugh.

" _Ben_!"

Dropping the "instruments", he spins, pulling off the earphones, and simultaneously breaking into a wide grin. "Justice, you made it!" Standing up, he stalks forward to give me a hug.

"I made it."

"How was the trip?" he asks, walking back over to an abandoned container of food to stuff another bite into his mouth.

"Long. It's weird knowing that you're being watched. It makes you extremely self-conscious of singing and dancing along to the music," I joke, trying to shake-off the tension of the drive. I've never been so hyper-vigilant, wary of any car that seemed to follow me for long. According to Angela, there was no suspicious activity.

"Oh no, that's when you should really let loose. Keep them on their toes. You never want them to know what to expect." He winks, taking another bite.

"I'll keep that in mind. Whatcha got there?" I ask, motioning to the fantastic smelling food. I pushed hard the whole trip, barely stopping to eat.

"Thai. If I'd known you were going to break speed records to get back, I would have ordered extra. What time did you guys leave anyway?"

"Six a.m. on the dot. Angela does not mess around with schedules."

Ben smirks. "Yes, she's a stickler for things like that."

Grabbing a plate out of the cabinet, I hold it out with a sweet smile. "So, what are we eating?"

Laughing, Ben shovels some food from the container onto my plate. "Drunken noodles. I hope you like things spicy."

"I can take the heat," I maintain, flashing a wink of my own before sitting down in the chair next to him.

"I take it the drive was uneventful."

"As far as we know." I made it, but I'm also not blindly accepting that everything is fine. I'm well aware of who we are up against. "Any word from Edward?"

"He was flown in several hours ago. I don't think people outside of his inner circle even knew that he left, which is good." Ben puts down his fork and leans his head against his hand, eying me carefully. "You two okay?"

The memory of last night brings a smile to my face. Even with my conflicted feelings, it was a wonderful evening. I guess I've become more accepting of our undefined relationship. I can no longer fight the fact that the two paths we've been walking are once again converging, nor can I ignore that I find myself missing his presence.

"We didn't kill each other," I offer vaguely.

"Uh huh. And I suppose that smile on your face, and Edward's suddenly cheery disposition has nothing to do with anything."

Instead of responding, I simply shrug my shoulders and take another bite, the pinging of my phone, saving me from his determined stare. "It's Emmett," I murmur looking down at the screen. "He wants to know my ETA."

"They're worried," he states knowingly.

"Yeah. They're happy that I'm coming back, but they're also sure that Sam's disappearance is a threat to me. The only reason Emmett wants me closer is because he wants to keep an eye on me." Typing in a reply, I let them know that I'm here. I suspect Ben and I won't be alone for long.

"You ready to meet them?"

"I already met Alice. Bring it on."

Setting my phone down, I focus on Ben. "Speaking of which, wouldn't it be good for me to know your last name? Unless you want me to introduce you as, 'hey guys, this is my really good friend from law school, Ben…uh, yeah, what's your name again?'"

"Good point." Standing up, Ben holds out his hand. "Ben Cartwright. It rolls off the tongue don't you think?" His face is serious, but there is a twinkle in his eye.

"Seriously?" I know he's messing with me.

"I'm impressed. You have to dig deep for that reference." He playfully nudges my shoulder. "In all seriousness, it's Davis. Ben Davis. Common enough, but not so common that it sounds fake."

"Ben Davis it is." I stick my hand out for him to shake, teasingly offering an "official" introduction.

"Are _you_ ready for this?" He looks at me emphatically, knowing that I've struggled with the decision to keep my friends in the dark.

"I have to be." There's not much more to say. Things have gone too far to turn back now.

"That's the spirit. Think about it as if it's your most important trial and you can't show your hand to the defense. I know for a fact you have to keep your emotions and facial expressions in check during those type of situations."

"True. I've just never had to face off against my friends. They're pretty good at reading physical cues too."

"And if they notice anything, you've had plenty of crap happen recently that would warrant you being a bit off. Use that to your advantage."

"Okay." For my Dad, the girls Sam killed, and all the innocent victims affected by Riley's business, I can do this.

After we've finished eating and I've unpacked, I'm not surprised when my doorbell rings, followed by a series of aggressive knocks. Taking a deep breath, I open the door to a frazzled Rosalie and anxious Emmett. Before I can get a word out, I'm suddenly off the floor.

"Thank God you're okay," Emmett whispers, tightening his grip.

"I'm fine." I rub his back reassuringly.

"I'm glad you're back." Rosalie says, stepping around us, the stress of the last couple of days evident in the dark circles under her eyes.

"Any news?" I ask quickly, staying in character.

"No," Rose huffs, taking off her coat. "I know that Riley's behind this, but even with the whole team working the case, there are no leads. It's like he just disappeared."

"There has to be something. People rarely disappear without a trace." Ben walks into the entryway. Emmett and Rose look at him suspiciously.

"Rose and Emmett, this is Ben Davis, a friend of mine from law school. He's staying here while he finds a place of his own."

Emmett reaches out his hand. "Right. Alice mentioned you." Grabbing Ben's hand, Emmett tightens his grip. Ben carefully suppresses any reaction. "What would you know about this case?"

"Bella was upset when she returned. I asked," Ben answers smoothly, as if Emmett has no right to challenge him.

"And she just told you?"

"Again, he's my friend," I assert, jumping in.

"I've prosecuted several kidnapping cases," Ben adds. "I'm not naïve to these types of situations." He turns his sympathetic eyes towards Rose. "I'm sorry about your colleague."

"He's a good agent. He doesn't deserve this."

I reach over and grab Rose's hand. "He is." I barely stop myself from choking on the words. Ben places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, understanding how deeply the disgusting lie burns in my stomach.

"He liked working with you," Rose says. "Most prosecutors complain about his ego, but he must have put it in check with you. You two seemed to get along well."

"He tried to intimidate me, but he didn't get very far." The words roll out easier since they are within the realm of truth. The smile that goes with them is harder.

"Rose, stop speaking about him like he's already gone. We're going to find him," Emmett retorts.

"We all know the stats. You really think we're going to find him alive?"

"I think we just need to keep looking and not make assumptions," I counter. We all know she's right. The chance of survival decreases substantially the longer a person is missing, but I also need to keep them focused on finding him instead of what I'm doing.

"We don't give up on a fellow officer," Emmett snaps.

"Right. You're right. I'm just tired," Rose whispers, defeated.

"You want me to make some coffee?" Ben asks.

"Sure," I utter, leading everyone to the living room to sit down. "That sounds good."

Emmett tracks Ben with narrowed eyes as he walks into the kitchen. "He certainly made himself at home."

"I would hope so, especially since he was supposed to be here by himself."

"You seem comfortable around him," Rose hedges. I simply give her a sharp look. "Come on. I need a distraction, and I know you're not going to let some random classmate stay here. What's the story with you guys?"

"She broke my heart," Ben answers, walking back out of the kitchen. "Coffee will be ready in a few."

"Broke your heart?" Emmett sneers, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. Apparently, he's decided to take an instant dislike to Ben, which I assume has more to do with his loyalty to Edward than it does anything else.

Ben stands taller. "We went on a few dates and hung out a lot. It's amazing the friendships that are forged during the midst of the stressful hell that is law school. Don't take things so personally, man. I'm not a threat here."

Emmett nods his head, but doesn't change his posture. Rose glares and elbows him in the side. "Knock it off, Emmett. Bella's free to do whatever she likes." The strange turn in topic has alleviated some of the tension from earlier. However, I'm not too sure I like where Ben or Rose are trying to lead things.

"I never said she couldn't," Emmett bites back.

"Whoa. Everyone needs to get a grip. Ben is a _friend_. I'm just helping him out. End of story. Okay?" Dutiful nods surround me. "Great. I bet that coffee's ready."

"On it," Ben says, giving me a sly smirk, no doubt amused by Emmett's reaction.

As soon as he's back in the kitchen, I try to re-focus the conversation. "What's the plan now?"

"We stick close to you, for one," Emmett answers.

"I don't think that's necessary. I'm off the case remember. You should be worried about Garrett, he's the prosecutor." Rose and Emmett look at one another, the room inexplicably feeling heavy. "What?"

"We think there's a mole in the operation. Given the timing, Garrett is a prime suspect," Rose answers.

"And if he is the one," Emmett inserts. "Then Riley knows you suspect him in your dad's murder, and what Sam was really trying to prove in Seattle."

My stomach twists at their words, and I have to swallow back the bile. They couldn't be more wrong, and yet I can't say anything. "What evidence do you have that he is a mole?"

They glance at each other again, Emmett tightening his fists. Their reaction tells me that the FBI is simply grasping at straws. "I just don't trust his relocation and assignment to this case. It's all a little too coincidental with the timing of Sam's disappearance," Rose proclaims.

"Wait," I stress, holding up my hand. "Jasper recommended him to take over for me. Not Mike or somebody we don't know, but _Jasper_. He has amazing instincts. You know that."

"I'm not saying Jasper did something wrong. These people can be insidious. You don't always know who you can trust," Emmett argues.

"Don't I know it," I mumble under my breath. Noticing their questioning glances, I quickly cover my slip. "I guess that's true."

"Sounds like you've got a legit suspect," Ben interrupts, walking back into the living room with two cups of coffee.

I work hard to control my facial expressions as he hands the cups to Rose and Emmett. He knows damn well that Garrett is innocent. Turning in my direction, with his back towards them, he mouths the words "shell game." In other words, keep them distracted. I understand the strategy, but helping to add to the suspicions of an innocent man wasn't part of the plan.

"Where's this guy from?" he asks.

"New York." Emmett looks at Ben with a sudden interest.

"Small world. Do you want me to ask around and see if any of my previous colleagues know anything about him?" Ben offers.

"We haven't been able to find anything, so any inside track you have would help," Rose says quickly.

Biting my tongue and reminding myself of the importance of the game, I nod my head in agreement. Luckily, an unexpected knock on the door breaks up the conversation before I have to add anything further.

"I'll get it," Emmett insists, jumping up.

His hand automatically moves to the side of his hip, ghosting along his service weapon. Looking out the peephole, his arm relaxes when he opens the door for Jasper and Alice. I should have expected them to show up sooner rather than later. As Jasper walks in, he clasps Emmett's shoulder in a supportive gesture before stalking over to me.

"Bella!" Alice rushes past him, encasing me in a tight embrace.

"Hey." I tighten my arms around her. "I'm fine."

"I know," she whispers. "I'm just glad you're home." Pulling back, she graces me with a huge smile, before tilting her head with a curious look.

"What?" I ask self-consciously.

Before she can answer, Jasper throws his arm around my shoulder. "Remember when we suggested getting back into the swing of things?" I nod my head. "Well, I don't think any of us meant this type of excitement." The sarcasm rolls off his tongue and out of his smirking lips. Dark humor is a prosecutor's best friend.

"What can I say, I'm an overachiever." Twisting, I throw my arms around his neck. "I missed you." It's been strange not being around Jasper, and stranger still knowing that I need to keep my recent experiences from him.

"Glad to have you back. Things are getting too crazy to have you running off on your own."

"I know," I acknowledge with a tight smile. "You guys want any coffee. Ben just made some."

"Right, Ben," Jasper breathes, turning towards him and holding out his hand. "It's nice to officially meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Your wife speaks very highly of you." Ben smiles at Alice, who waves hello.

Jasper laughs. "Only on good days."

"Coffee?' I ask again.

"Sure," Alice answers. "I'll help you."

Moving towards the kitchen, we leave everyone else behind as Jasper asks Rose for an update. When we reach the kitchen, Alice grabs my arm, pulling me towards the counter. "Okay, spill."

"Spill what?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Something's up with you. Is it Ben?"

"Ben's just a good friend," I maintain, assuming that she's fishing for the status of our relationship.

"So, it's not Ben," she whispers, looking at me intently.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're different. Something changed."

My mind flashes through the events at Sam's apartment, and all of the revelations of the last few days. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm still the same me."

"No, you've found peace."

Her words throw me. I expected her to notice the dark circles under my eyes, or stress lines creasing my face. "Huh?"

"There's a spark in your eyes. One that I haven't seen in a long time."

Edward's face flashes in my mind. Is it possible that he's the one who brought it back? Maybe I've underestimated the power of finally talking to him, or learning about what really happened to my dad. Maybe the truth really does set you free.

I bite the side of my lip from smiling. I can't tell Alice about any of this without giving away everything. "I don't know, maybe getting away for a couple of days is what I needed. I just wish I didn't have to return to this mess."

Alice frowns. "Yeah, everyone is worried about Sam _and_ you. This case is out of control. I've never seen Jasper so concerned."

"It's scary. I just hope that we can find him soon." Moving to grab a couple of cups, I breathe a sigh of relief at my successful diversion. Each topic is proving to be a minefield, and it's difficult to know what direction to go without this whole thing blowing up.

"You're making conclusions with no basis!" Jasper suddenly yells, his voice booming even though he's in a different room.

Alice and I glance at each other before quickly moving back into the living room, the coffee forgotten. "What's going on?" I ask upon seeing Jasper and Rose standing toe to toe. Emmett is standing tensely behind Rose, while Ben sits on the couch watching the standoff closely.

"Jasper disagrees with my assessment of Garrett," Rose spits out, not moving her stony eyes off him.

"Garrett is good guy. You're spending resources in the wrong area. If you want to save Sam, start looking somewhere else."

"You're willing to bet his life on that?" Emmett asks.

"Are you saying that you're not willing to trust _me_?"

"Hey!" I come around and force my way between Jasper and Rose. "This isn't helping."

"Jasper, you know they need to check out every possible lead. Sam is one of their team." I try to reason.

"But they're talking about one of our team," he growls.

"I get that, and if he's clean then you have nothing to worry about. We have enough to fight without turning on each other."

"Bella's right," Alice chimes in, moving around to touch Jasper's shoulder. "We're all worried and stressed, but this isn't going to help find Sam."

Jasper looks at Alice and then takes a step back. I can see him taking measured breaths as he calms down.

"I guess, we'll have to agree to disagree," Rose says, also taking a step back. "How about this? I promise to make sure we have something solid before we do anything official."

Jasper nods his head, although I can tell he's still not happy. The living room falls into an uncomfortable silence as we stand there, everyone apparently at an impasse.

Shaking her head, Rose breaks first. "I've got to get back to the bureau for the next de-brief." Turning, she gives me a quick hug, obviously wanting to get out of here before things escalate again. "I'm glad you're back. I'll call if there's any news."

"Thanks. Let me know if I can do anything to help," I add, selfishly hoping she won't take me up on the offer.

"Of course. Emmett, are you coming?"

"I think I should stick around here." He moves his guarded eyes back to Ben.

"Emmett, that's not necessary."

"We don't know that, Bella," he argues.

"Look, if there's a problem, I promise I'll call. Besides, it's not like I'm alone."

"I know I'm not law enforcement, but I'm not going to let anything happen to her," Ben avows, coming over to stand closer to me.

Emmett apprises Ben, unimpressed by his declaration. "I don't know."

"I'll keep the doors locked and the alarm on. If we see anything suspicious, I'll give you a call. Besides, Riley has to know that the heat is on him. He'd be stupid to do anything to me right now."

Emmett glances at Ben again, who refuses to back down. The two of them caught in a silent dual. Finally, Emmett decides to back down. "Fine, but I'm checking in with you later. Don't go anywhere." He points his finger at me, before following Rose to the door.

"Yes, sir," I joke. "I'm going to be fine, Emmett. You don't need to worry about me, I promise."

"Fat chance of that happening. Keep your phone close." Rose pierces me with a serious look before they step off the stoop and walk towards the street.

"You want to go to the briefing too, don't you?" Alice questions. Turning, I see her looking intently at Jasper.

"I just want to make sure they aren't railroading Garrett."

Alice looks sadly in my direction. "Go ahead. I'm tired anyway. It was a long drive. We can catch up tomorrow," I say to ease her conscious about leaving.

"You sure?" Jasper asks. I can see he is torn. We haven't had a chance to talk, but I can also see how important it is for him to be involved with this investigation.

"Go. I'll call you tomorrow."

"I love you," he says, pulling me into a hug.

"Do you want me to come back after I drop him off?" Alice asks.

"No, I'm just going to go to bed."

"Okay. Lunch tomorrow? We still have to finish our conversation," she comments, referring to our unfinished conversation in the kitchen.

"We'll see." I glance quickly at Ben, not sure what we will be doing.

"Uh huh," she whispers glancing between Ben and I. "We're definitely talking tomorrow."

"Fine, fine." I grumble, herding them towards the door. "Talk to you tomorrow." With one final wave, I close the door and turn around to lean against it. "Well, that was fun."

Ben gives me a sympathetic smile. "I know this is hard, but it's necessary. Everyone will be safer once Riley is out of commission, and this is the best way to do it."

"I know, but I don't feel good about implying that Garrett is part of this. A dirty reputation is hard to come back from."

"You're not doing anything to add to their concerns, Bella. You're just not disputing them."

"Potato, potahto," I retort. "Is this how it always is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Trying to justify the lies?"

Ben sighs and grabs my hand, pulling me over to sit on the couch. "You have to remember the big picture. Do you want to get Riley?"

"Of course!"

"Then you need to get it together. We don't have time for self-doubt. We have a job to do. Are you in or out?" His tone takes on a sharp edge.

Taking a deep breath, I realize he's right. I need to stop second-guessing everything. "I'm in. You know, you're pretty good at pep talks."

"I've had plenty of practice over the last few years," he remarks with a weighted look.

"Edward?" He nods his head with a smirk. Once again, I find myself gaining some insight into Edward's complicated life.

"Speaking of the devil," Ben smirks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Twenty bucks says he's not calling to talk to me."

"Umm, I don't think that's a bet I'm willing to take."

Ben grins knowingly, answering the phone. "Hey, you have impeccable timing…Actually, I'm surprised it took you this long…What message do you want me to pass along?...Man, I'm joking, calm down. Here she is."

Ben hands over the phone. "I'm glad you guys didn't kill each other," he quips sarcastically.

Grabbing the phone, I try to calm my fluttering stomach. "Hello?"

"Hi." Edward's velvet voice warms the line. "How was the drive?"

"It was good. Nothing happened."

"That's good." The phone goes silent, and suddenly I feel self-conscious, not really knowing what to say next. It doesn't help that Ben is watching me closely. Luckily, before I can over-think things too much, Edward makes the first move. "Hell, I don't know why this has to be so awkward…I miss you…Last night meant a lot to me."

"It meant a lot to me too," I answer honestly, turning away from Ben's laser stare.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I smile at his hopeful tone.

"Oh, you can put this number into your phone. It's a secured line."

I received a crash course in secure lines before we left today, both Angela and Edward warning me about the dangers of having conversations with my cellphone. After the lesson, Angela gave me a CIA approved phone to contact her. Grabbing the new phone off the table by the couch, I type it in. "I'm going to call you back on it now, so I can give Ben's phone back to him. And then maybe he will _stop_ staring at me." I turn and glare.

I hear Edward's laughter in my ear. "Sure."

Hanging up, I hand Ben's phone back to him and then hit call on mine. Waving at Ben, I give him an overly sweet smile before walking up the stairs to my room.

"How was your trip back?" I ask, shutting the door and flopping down on the bed.

"Uneventful. I was able to get that property from Riley though. He's probably pissed, but plotting."

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm, what? That sound serious, Ms. Swan." His voice is teasing and light.

"I know we are trying to put him off his game, but are you sure we're not just taunting a snake who will end up biting us?"

"Well, that was a metaphoric mouthful," Edward laughs. "There's always a chance that a plan won't work, but we'll never get anywhere without taking calculated risks."

"Right," I say between yawns.

"Tired?" he whispers.

"It was a long drive and my bed feels good." I stretch out my body, before sinking further into the mattress.

"We should go surfing," Edward blurts out.

"Surfing? Is it okay for people to see us together?"

"It's not like Riley hasn't seen us together before. As far as anyone else is concerned, I'm just trying to win back your favor."

"In that case, you better get to work. You've got a lot of favor to earn," I tease.

"Is that right?" His voice makes me feel warm as I pull the blanket up. Snuggling into the pillow, we continue to talk until my eyes refuse to stay open. The last thing I remember is the sound of his voice telling me goodnight.

* * *

The light of the morning rouses me from a dream. I don't remember what it was about, but it must have been good because the tingling feeling of happiness still lingers. Turning my head, I see my phone lying next to me. Picking it up, I almost expect to hear the sound of Edward's breathing. I guess he hung up after I went to sleep.

"Bella!" Ben's voice bellows between a series of loud knocks. "I hope you're decent because I'm coming in."

Sitting up, I pull my knees in and wrap my arms around them. "What?" I ask, as he barges through the door.

Walking towards the bed, he holds up and shakes an expensive looking envelope with a serious expression. "Your presence has been requested at a party tonight by the one and only Riley Biers."

" _What?_ " Reaching out I snatch it out of his hand.

"And you're not the only one." Flipping around the screen of his phone, Edward's face stares back at me.

"You got an invite too?" I ask, ripping into the envelope. This invitation is fancy, the gold lettering standing out against the black paper. Riley's name mockingly shines at the bottom. He's taunting us.

"Hi," Edward whispers with a small smile, his eyes scanning my confused face. "The invitation arrived first thing this morning."

"This means he has people watching you, Bella," Ben says, sitting down on the bed in front of me.

"It's the only way he would know you're back this quickly," Edward answers, his voice taking on a harsh edge. "If he's inviting both of us, then I would guess that he's trying to figure out our relationship."

"Does this mean he knows about you?" My heart starts pounding.

"No. I think he wants to test you, and he knows we have some sort of past based on my reaction at the charity event."

"What do we do?"

"We go," Ben declares. "If he wants to play games, I say we play some fucking games." A sinister smile spreads across his face as he cracks his knuckles.

"Really?"

"Really," Edward answers. "Going is probably the best way to get things moving."

"Okay then," I declare sitting up straighter. "Let's do this."

Ben gives me a wide smile. "Let's do this," he mimics.

Edward flashes a tight grin, I know he is not as excited as Ben, but I appreciate him not trying to argue my involvement. The day passes quickly in a blur of plans and strategies, and before I know it, Ben and I are rushing out the door to get to the party on time.

Stepping out of the car, Ben surveys the club. Spotlights crisscross in front of the building, highlighting a red carpet entrance, monitored by burly and stoic bouncers. I can hear the thumping beat of the music from here. Fancy dressed couples are walking in. A few of them appear to have already been celebrating by the look of their tilted walk. Glancing down the street, I can see Emmett's car, watching from the sidelines as planned. I feel safer knowing that he's our safety net.

"You ready?" Ben asks, after handing my keys to the valet.

"Yup," I state confidently, trying to ignore the slight shaking of my knees.

"Let the games begin," Ben proclaims, rubbing his hands together, before reaching out to take one of mine. "This should be fun."

Riley is not going to know what hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for good reasons, my workload has recently expanded. I still plan on doing regular updates, but the chapters will probably be a little shorter than previous ones. I figure a shorter chapter is better than no chapter, especially since we are on the downhill slope of this story. :)


	20. Chapter 18: Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I received exciting news this week. This story has been nominated for a Multifandom Award for Favorite Crime Fanfic! I was honestly shocked. Thank you so much to whomever nominated me, I am truly honored. The first round of voting started on 05/31 and goes until 06/15. If I make it to the second round the voting goes from 06/15 through 06/22. For those interested in voting, it would be great to have your support. Thank you! :)
> 
> Also, my first story, The Heart of Darkness, seemed to have a bump in readers over the last couple of weeks. Thank you to anyone who has also recommended that story. I appreciate it.
> 
> Finally, thank you to LostInPA for not only helping to make this story nominated worthy, but for helping me work out all the kinks in this chapter. I couldn't do this without her.
> 
> Okay, on with the show. :)

Chapter 18: Circus

_"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

Stepping out of the car, the thumping beat of the music permeates the air as Ben surveys the entrance. Bright spotlights crisscross in front of the building, highlighting the red carpet walkway. At the end of the carpet, sit two burly and stoic bouncers, which I can see Ben sizing up. Several fancy dressed couples are walking in, and a few appear to have already been celebrating by the look of their tilted walk. Glancing down the street, I can see Emmett's car, watching from the sidelines. I feel secure knowing that he's our safety net.

"You ready?" Ben asks, after handing my keys to the valet.

"Yup," I state confidently, trying to ignore the slight shaking of my knees.

"Let the games begin." Ben rubs his hands together before reaching out to take mine. "This should be fun."

Walking closer to the door, the beat becomes overwhelming. This is the opposite of the ambiance created for Edward's charity event. I'm sure it's purposeful, but I'm curious as to what tone Riley is attempting to set with the loud and bright atmosphere.

Ben leans over to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling my neck. "Here we go."

"Yippee ki yay." I murmur, smiling politely at one of the bouncers as I flash my invitation.

Holding up his hand, he gives us the once over, before using his other hand to cover his earpiece. After listening for a moment, he moves to the side and waves us through. It makes me wonder whether Riley is watching us right now.

Leaning in closer, Ben places his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. "And don't worry, I brought breath mints."

His sarcastic remark makes me smile and helps to ease my jitters. Although Ben was not invited, I'm bringing him as a plus one. If Riley wants to sort out who Edward and I are to each other, Ben's presence will throw a wrench into his plan. The three of us are prepared to play this "unexpected" meeting to the fullest, creating quite the show for him to consume.

We believe that Riley's primary goal is to use this time as a way to extract what Sam shared with me, along with his whereabouts. There is no way that Alec didn't tell him about what happened in that apartment. It must be driving him crazy not knowing what I know, or when I will decide to play my hand. His invitation to Edward is probably, in part, an attempt to rattle me, hoping that I will eventually falter.

"Welcome to Vibe. Mr. Biers is pleased to have you as his guest," a tall blonde-haired woman chirps as soon as we enter the club. She's wearing a tight black tank top with a silver mini skirt and is holding a stamp. Smiling brightly, she marks our hands and briefly explains the fastest way to get to the bar before letting us go.

"I think it's fair to say that he knows we've arrived," Ben says lowly.

"Uh, yeah. I think you're right."

Planning for this evening ended up being a complicated dance between two opposing agendas. After receiving my invite and learning about Edward's, Jasper called to let me know that both he and Garrett received requests as well. It was an interesting move on Riley's part to invite only members from the DOJ instead of the FBI. Maybe he believes that the DOJ worked with another agency to orchestrate the raid. Moreover, that by corralling us in a room, he can ascertain exactly what we learned from Sam regarding his organization.

Garrett is opting out altogether. Any contact with Riley, especially without his lawyer, is an ethical risk as the lead prosecutor. A part of me wishes he would come anyway. My purpose tonight is to shake Riley off his game. I could have used Garrett's presence to my benefit, taunting Riley with the question of whether or not he knows anything.

Given the precarious and unknown nature of the circumstances, Rose is going as Jasper's plus one. The three of us quickly agreeing that Alice should stay far away from tonight's event. Since Emmett was out of the invitation loop, he became our backup, connected to the party through a listening device in Rose's dress. Although Emmett and Rose were concerned about Riley's intentions, they reluctantly agreed that at least one of them attending was their best opportunity to get Riley to slip up about Sam's disappearance. None of them, however, know that Edward will be attending too.

The irony is not lost on me that both my friends' and Riley's objective for this evening is the same, each believing that the other knows what happened to Sam. It was difficult making plans with them, knowing that in many respects, they are simply pawns in a larger game. Nevertheless, I'm learning that being the holder of the truth is a vital role, and in that respect, it now my responsibility to protect them. Pushing the disgust of deception out of mind, I kept reminding myself that tonight will help to end this nightmare for all of us.

"Hey, beautiful! What's your name?" A man in a suit slithers up to me, his drink sloshing as he tries to keep his balance.

"Hey, asshole, the lady isn't interested." With experienced agility, Ben's hand shoots out and pushes him away while still moving us forward.

As the man stumbles, disgusting threats towards me spew from his mouth. Swinging around, Ben stands toe to toe with the drunk stranger, stretching to his full height until he towers over him. I can't hear what he says, but I watch as the man cringes and slinks away, defeated. Ben quickly replaces his arm around my waist and continues to walk us further into the room.

"We're off to a great start," I observe.

"Riley has quite the mix of people here tonight. It's certainly going to make things interesting."

Within the belly of room, the strobe lights are almost hypnotic, flashing intensely with the techno music. A heated crowd packs the dance floor, pulsating to the beat, while the people surrounding the bar try to push their way closer to get their drinks. It's a claustrophobic scene.

"This is strange," I yell, leaning into Ben so that he can hear me. "Wouldn't Riley want to talk to people, and overhear conversations? How in the hell can he hope to get any information in this environment?"

"That's exactly the point. He wants us to think that he doesn't care. I'm sure he has another room set up for his 'special guests' to achieve exactly that."

"Oh."

"Don't be fooled though. This room is also one big distraction, so stick close to me. It would be easy to get lost in here, if you know what I mean."

His words stop me cold. "I understand."

That thought never crossed my mind, but he's right. One of Riley's men could easily grab a person out of this crowd. Between the mass of people, the flashing lights, and noise, it would be easy to get away without anyone noticing, even if there was a struggle. Scrutinizing the crowd again, I can't help but shiver, wondering if Alec is out there biding his time. Strolling past the dance floor, I try to shake off the tension by keeping my eyes peeled for Edward, hoping that the sight of him will ground me.

As we move around a group of college-aged boys, a small dark-haired girl, dressed in a short royal blue dress, steps into our path causing Ben to yank us back before we run into her. Holding an iPad and wearing a wireless earpiece, she eyes us carefully.

"Ms. Swan?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Biers requests your presence in his private VIP lounge." Turning to Ben, she tilts her head. "And you are?"

"Ben Davis," he says without hesitation, sticking his hand out for her to shake. "And you are?"

She looks at his hand as if it is poisonous. "There's no Ben Davis on the guest list," she retorts, ignoring his question.

"I invited him," I add brazenly. "If he doesn't go, I don't go."

Glaring, she puffs out an annoyed breath. "Hold on." Turning around, she pushes a button on the earpiece. After several seconds of a hushed conversation, she faces us again. "Come with me."

Catching a shadow out of the corner of my eye, I stop. "Wait. Is there a bathroom I can use first?"

Biting her lip, she looks down at the electronic device, considering my request. "I guess, but you need to hurry."

Changing directions, Ben and I almost have to run to keep up with her as she moves through the crowd.

"What's going on?" Ben whispers.

"Signal," I answer, venturing that he will understand.

He nods his head, scanning the room for possible dangers. "Make it quick. I'll provide the distraction."

The hallway leading to the bathroom is familiar. Edward e-mailed the pictures earlier, judiciously mapping out a place that we could meet. A couple of CIA agents, "guardian angels", as Edward calls them, are manipulating the cameras as needed to ensure our safety.

"I'll wait here," Ben says, looking towards the restrooms.

"Hurry, Mr. Biers is expecting you," the girl stresses, glancing once again at the iPad, the stern nature of her words weakened by her nervousness. It makes me wonder why she's working for Riley in the first place.

Hurrying down the hallway, I look back once before turning the corner. Ben is attempting to chat up the girl, who appears more interested in looking at her iPad than conversing with him. The only occupants of the hallway are several girls walking out of the bathroom. They are in the middle of a heated discussion about their disappointing dates, and therefore pay no attention to me. Once they round the corner, I swing open the door to janitor's closet and rush in before anyone sees me.

As soon as the door shuts, blackness envelops me. I stand still unable to see ahead, my pulse throbbing in my ears. Before my eyes have a chance to adjust, familiar arms wrap around my back, drawing me against a strong chest. The smell of vanilla and spice delivering the grounding feeling I was seeking earlier.

"I wasn't sure you'd see me," Edward whispers against my head.

"I almost didn't. We were heading up to see Riley."

"I'm glad that I caught you then."

"Isn't this a little risky?" I step back, willing my eyes to adjust so that I can see his face.

"The guardian angels I told you about helped to sneak me in the back. The limo is waiting for me down the street. My driver thinks that I'm running into a store to get some gum."

"Gum?" I whisper, disbelieving. "That's a pretty weak excuse."

"I'm Edward Cullen. No one will question me." In the dark, I can barely make out the characteristic smirk that accompanies the smug, yet sarcastic comment.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at him. "What was so urgent?"

"I needed to give you this." He grabs my wrist and places a bracelet around it with practiced skill. Holding it up, I look at the unexpected gift. I can't tell whether it is silver or gold, but I can see that the thin chain connects to a round medallion.

"Edward," I whisper.

"It's a tracking device."

"What?"

"It has a chip. As long as you have that on, I will always be able to find you."

"I don't know what to say." The sentiment behind the gesture sends tingles down my spine.

"Well, let's just hope that I won't need to use it," he declares, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Thank you." I lean into his chest, inhaling his comfort.

"You should go," he says calmly although I can feel his heart pounding.

"I should," I agree, leaving the warmth of his arms. "I'll see you soon."

Reaching forward, Edward cradles my face between his hands before pulling me into a fierce kiss. I stand on my tiptoes as it deepens, his tongue stroking mine. Breaking apart with ragged breaths, his fingers run down my face. "I love you. Now go."

Nodding my head, I peek out the door, waiting quietly as a few people head in and out of the restroom doors. I force myself to ignore the heat of Edward's body against my back, remembering the importance of our mission.

The second the hallway empties, I step out without looking back. Slipping into the bathroom and shouldering my way in front of a mirror, I make sure that there's no evidence of our rendezvous left behind.

In the middle of straightening my hair, I hear a brisk, "Ms. Swan." The girl's reflection stares back at me. "We need to go."

"Sorry, there was a line." Calmly, I walk past her and out of the door, glancing briefly at the closet.

Ben pushes away from the wall when he sees me, automatically wrapping his arm around my waist. Before I can even talk to him, the girl storms past, moving as if hell itself was chasing her and once again, Ben and I find ourselves trying to keep up.

"Everything good?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. He just wanted to give me some extra security," I answer, lifting my wrist to show off the silver bracelet. Out of curiosity, I flip the medallion over looking for evidence of a chip, but instead find the word "courage". Brushing my finger along the ridges of the letters, I take a deep breath letting the message empower me. Once again, Edward knew exactly what I needed.

Shadowing the girl through the crowd, we reach a staircase guarded by two men and barricaded by a rope. Their clone-like appearance makes wonder if Riley "orders them" with the specifications of mammoth and no personality. The girl walks forward with her head down, stopping briefly for one of the men to move the rope. Following her up the stairs, I prepare for the performance of a lifetime.

The top of the stairs leads into an open room, the beat of the music muted by soundproof walls and floors. There, against the back wall sits Riley. He's surrounded by several scantily clad girls and drinking from a bottle of champagne.

"Finally, my special guest has arrived!" He stands up, pushing the girls off him, one falling clumsily to the floor in a fit of giggles. "My, you are a vision tonight," he purrs, licking his lips and running his eyes down the length of my dark green silk dress.

"I guess that makes me a lucky man," Ben boasts, taking a step in front of me.

Riley pins him with his eyes. "Aww, the unexpected guest. I don't remember adding a plus one option to the invitation I sent."

"I invited him."

"And how in the world could I say no to this beauty," Ben tugs me closer, resting his head against mine lovingly.

"Hmmm. I didn't know that the lovely Ms. Swan was attached." I can feel the heat of Riley's stare as he analyses every piece of us. "Or maybe you just didn't want to be alone with me. Do I scare you, Bella?"

"No." I straighten my spine and move around so that I'm standing next to Ben. "And as for my personal life, I'm not in the habit of advertising whether I am or am not in a relationship. I'm not surprised that you were clueless."

Riley flinches at the disparaging word, his eyes narrowing. "You're a spunky thing aren't you?"

"I just know how to hold my own," I respond, jutting out my chin.

In a fascinating demonstration of self-control, I watch as an apathetic veil falls over his stormy eyes. Snapping his fingers, one of the girls scampers over and hands him a glass filled with amber liquid. "You must have a lot of time on your hands, being on leave and all," he quips, changing the subject and taking a sip.

"Not really. I've had an outstanding issue to deal with regarding my father's murder."

The words chill the room, and Riley's attempt to remain in control falters as he strangles the glass. "Of course. Did they ever find the culprits?" His words sound pressured and forced.

"There have been several interesting developments," Ben adds quietly.

Riley's eyes cut to Ben as he tilts his head. Out of all of us, Ben's role is the most nebulous. Nobody really knows what our history is or what we've discussed. It is one more thing that we can use to our advantage. The statement sounds odd coming from a longtime acquaintance who recently moved into my house. That alone should bother Riley.

"Well, I hope that you get the answers you're looking for, Ms. Swan."

"Oh don't worry. I will," I assert, looking him in the eye.

Glancing around the room, I walk closer to the back wall, eyeing the framed art hanging from it. The largest is an abstract mix of vibrant colors. At first, it appears as if it is simply random strokes, but looking closer you can see the shape of a butterfly. His obsession with the form is beguiling. "You're certainly a connoisseur of interesting pieces, Mr. Biers."

"What can I say? I like to surround myself with beautiful things."

"Uh huh," I mutter nonchalantly, moving along the wall. "You know I recently saw a fascinating collection of pictures."

"Did you now?" I can sense him moving closer. "And where was this collection?"

In my mind's eye, I can picture us moving around a chessboard, both trying to find the fastest way to checkmate. "It was a private collection. Not my style though." I swing around and face him. "It's interesting how one man's art can be the source of another person's nightmare." Riley quirks his eyebrow and opens his mouth to respond, when we are abruptly interrupted.

"Sir." The girl from earlier says timidly, rushing back into the room with her head down. I want to shake her and tell her that she's better than this.

"What is it, Bree," Riley roars. My eyes automatically narrow at his sharp tone, especially when I see her flinch.

"Mr. Cullen has arrived. Should I bring him up?" My heart skips a beat at her words.

"Yes. I think it's time for all of our guests to meet. Wouldn't you agree, Bella?"

I twist my face into a look of shock. "Edward's here?"

Ben rushes over. "Hey, it will be okay. I won't let him bother you," he whispers, just loud enough for eavesdropping ears to hear.

Riley's eyes light up. "Yes, bring him here," he says again to Bree without turning away from me. "Something to drink, Ms. Swan?"

I watch as he saunters over to a fully stocked bar in the corner, probably believing that he just checked my king. "White wine," I mutter, trying to appear preoccupied.

"I'll have a beer since your pouring, Ri." Ben requests, and if Riley's posture were any indicator, I would say he did not appreciate the nickname.

"Of course," Riley responds, his words measured. "Ben was it?"

"Ben Davis," he answers, with a confident edge.

"Pleasure," Riley drones, appraising him as if he is a bug to crush. Bringing our drinks back over, he picks up his own glass and lifts it up. "To a lovely evening. Cheers."

"To a lovely evening," Ben repeats, drowning the enthusiastic lie with a long sip from his bottle.

I hold my glass up, but refuse to drink, not trusting that Riley didn't somehow tamper with it. Before anyone notices my hesitation, Bree walks back into room followed by Edward and Kate. For a moment, I struggle to control the influx of emotions that occur when I see him, reminding myself quickly of the game. He's wearing a crisp grey suit with a dark red shirt that is open at the collar. His stance is tall and confident, his face stern and serious, until he sees me.

"Bella?" he breaths. Kate glances at him annoyed. I'm still not exactly sure what her role is in all of this or whether Edward fully trusts her.

"Edward," I acknowledge sharply.

Taking a few steps forward, he stops and clenches his fist, his feet shuffling slightly. "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday."

"Don't you love reunions?" Riley blurts out.

Edward's face sharpens as he turns his attention away from me. "I'm not here to play games, Biers. I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but it won't change that you are losing your hold on this city." As he's talking, he walks over to the bar, looking at the selection, his face morphing into disgust. "No Cristal, no Bollinger? How disappointing. _Kate_ ," he barks, spinning around, "go find me a decent bottle of champagne, or better yet, track down a bottle of Gout de Diamants. I feel like celebrating." The French name rolls of his tongue in a perfect accent.

" _Bree_!" Riley snaps. "We don't want to be bad hosts, now do we? Go downstairs and grab a bottle of the champagne Mr. Cullen has requested. I don't mind indulging him in his premature celebration."

Their beck and call girl routine is grating on my nerves. Riley's actions are sinister and degrading, and although Edward's is just an act, he pulls it off well. In the end, both are treating Bree and Kate like second-class citizens.

"Premature?" Edward scoffs. "Delusional is not a good look on you."

"It's one property, Cullen. You really think that it's going to break me?"

"I don't know. Word on the street is that your 'partners' are looking to cut ties with you. Kind of like rats fleeing from a sinking ship."

Riley smirks. "I've never quite understood that expression. The rats still die whether they jump in the ocean or stay on the boat. People should know that I always come out unscathed no matter how things appear."

Edward laughs loudly. "There are those delusions again."

Riley laughs in return, the tension between the two men palatable. "I guess we shall see." He takes another sip of his drink and moves in my direction. Ben, in turn, shifts closer. "My dear, Bella, our conversation was rudely interrupted earlier. Maybe we can finish it on the dance floor?"

"I don't think we could hear each other over the music."

His eyes glide down my body. "There's more than one way to communicate," he infers, his tongue once again sneaking out to wet his lips.

Edward's body bristles as he leans to take a step forward, only to stop abruptly when he sees Ben moving in.

"Sorry to disappoint, _Ri_ , but Bella is a one-man kind of girl, and _I'm_ her date tonight." Ben swings his arm around my shoulders.

"Date?" Edward chokes, his eyes narrowed on Ben's hand as it caresses my shoulder.

Taking the opportunity to hammer the point home, Ben sweeps my hair to the side and leans down to kiss my neck gently. A low growl erupts from Edward's chest, while Riley looks on with a crooked smile.

"Yes date. I don't think we've had the pleasure. I'm Ben and you're Edward?"

"Edward Cullen," he snarls. "It's funny, Bella has never mentioned you."

"Oh but she's mentioned you," Ben retorts. "And I should really thank you. Because of your stupidity, I was able to get my second chance with her."

Edward clenches his jaw, but doesn't respond. Kate rolls her eyes and heads to the bar, seemingly bored by the whole conversation. Bree, however, is standing awkwardly in the corner trying to fade into the background.

"Stop it," I hiss, nudging Ben with my hip. "Now is not the time." I shift my eyes towards Riley.

Ben controls his smile. "Sorry, you're right." Leaning down, he whispers into my ear, low enough that no one else can hear. "Riley's eating this up."

I smile shyly and lower my eyes, pretending that his words have affected me. When I look up and spot Edward's fuming face, I purposely control the scripted reaction.

"I hate to break it to you, _Ben_ , but you can't _touch_ what's between Bella and me."

Ben snorts. "Just keep telling yourself that." He takes another sip from his bottle without removing his arm.

Edward moves forward. "You have _no_ idea who I am."

Ben straightens his spine, but before he can take a step, I move between them. "Stop it! You're both being ridiculous. Maybe we should just leave," I propose, looking at Ben exasperated.

"What? This night is just getting started," Riley jumps in, creeping closer and snaking his hand around my upper arm. "We still haven't had our dance."

Ben and Edward stand frozen, staring each other down seemingly oblivious to Riley's move. In reality, I know that both are keenly aware of his actions.

"You know what, why the hell not. Even a dance with you would be better than this juvenile standoff," I spit out angrily, allowing Riley pull me away. It's a calculated risk, but I don't think he's going to address his intentions honestly, unless we are alone. I feel confident that one way or another, Ben and Edward won't let me out of their sight.

Riley snorts, "Not the most welcoming acceptance I've received, but I'll take it." Leading me out of the room, he glances cockily at the two men who are now standing there slack-jawed.

Once we are on the stairs, I pull my arm out of his hand. "Don't be fooled, Mr. Biers. I don't like you. I'm just trying to prove a point."

He stops walking and turns to look at me. "And yet you accepted my invitation anyway."

"Because I'm not afraid of you. Don't confuse my coming here with interest." I continue to walk ahead, leaving him behind.

He catches up before we reach the bottom, once again gripping my arm. This time I allow it to stay. The guard quickly moves the rope so that we can walk back into the noisy club. Instinctively, the crowd seems to move out of Riley's path, as if sensing the danger of his presence. Weaving our way to the dance floor, another guard suddenly blocks our path.

"What," Riley growls.

"Your other guest has arrived." Behind him, I spot Jasper and Rose moving in our direction.

"Wonderful," Riley exhales, a little too sweetly. The guard nods and melts into the crowd just as they reach us. "Mr. Whitlock, I'm glad that you took me up on my offer."

"Seemed like an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Jasper remarks, glancing around the room.

Spotting Rose, Riley's forehead wrinkles in concentration. "Ms. Hale, I don't remember sending you an invitation." He glances over to me. "It seems as though people have forgotten how invitations work."

"The invitation included a plus one Mr. Biers," Jasper bites back.

Riley sneers. "I guess, you got me there. I just assumed that you would bring your lovely wife."

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this little shindig for the world, Biers." Rose steps forward dressed in a dark red knee-length dress. The height of her black heels almost brings her eye level with Riley. "I wanted to see you enjoy the last few moments of your freedom."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I would enjoy the perks while you can." She steps into his space. "It won't be long before you're going to get what you deserve, you son of a bitch!"

"All that I'm doing is enjoying a night in my club. I don't think that's a federal offense, Agent," Riley responds evenly without blinking or stepping back.

Rose steps even closer. "I know that you did something to Agent Uley."

Riley tilts his head, his eyes scanning Rose carefully. "Why would I have anything to do with the unfortunate disappearance of Agent Uley?"

"Oh how about the fact that he was investigating you?" I point out. "I bet he had _tons_ of dirt on you and your organization. I would also bet that it was hard for him to keep it to himself." Both Rose and Riley throw me the same look but for different reasons. I know that I'm walking a fine line.

Riley recovers quickly. "That would be incredibly stupid don't you think? Besides, I have nothing to fear by these so called charges."

"Mark my words, Biers. I'm going to take you down," Rose hisses.

Riley laughs. "I've heard similar threats before and yet, here I am. Just enjoy my hospitality, Ms. Hale. Aggression is not a good look on you."

With a smirk, Rose steps back and looks Riley up and down. "Oh don't worry. I intend to enjoy the hell out of this evening. It should be exciting." She winks, a vague threat lingering between the words. "Come on, Jasper. I say it's time to get our drink on. I'm assuming your guests drink for free."

"Of course," Riley responds with a forced smile. "Order whatever you like."

Jasper glances down at Riley's hand around my elbow. "You okay, Bella?"

"I'm fine. Riley and I were headed to the dance floor."

"You sure?" he asks again unconvinced.

"Bella is a strong woman. She can take care of herself," Rose remarks. "Don't forget how to plant the bug," she stage whispers with a sarcastic smile.

"Don't worry I'm a quick learner." I wink. Out of corner of my eye, I see Riley's eyes tighten.

"Stop joking around," Jasper admonishes. "He knows we can't legally do that without just cause. So, he's got nothing to worry about, right?"

For several moments, the loaded comment remains between them, Jasper and Riley's eyes silently continuing the conversation.

"That's what I appreciate about you, Whitlock, your fairness. I hope that the rest of your office takes your lead when I'm exonerated of all charges. I have more important things to do than to waste time defending myself from flimsy accusations."

Rose bursts into laughter. "Oh my God. I didn't know you were funny too. Flimsy accusations," she mocks before her face falls into a sharp glare. "Now I really need a drink. We'll be back, Bella."

"I'll be watching," Jasper threatens, before following Rose towards the bar.

"You keep interesting company, Ms. Swan," Riley scoffs, moving us onto the dance floor. "Although they do seem a bit clueless." Even though the music continues to pound with a hip-hop beat, he pulls me in closely, slowly swaying us from side to side.

"What do you hope to gain by all of this?" I ask boldly. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Edward and Ben standing several feet away with their arms crossed. "Do you really think this evening will get you anywhere?"

"Are you always this suspicious?"

"I like to think of myself a realist." Shifting, I look him in the eye. "I know all about you."

"Don't be so sure," he says, drawing me back against his chest. "It must have been difficult, losing your father." The heat of his breath assaults my ear.

"It wasn't his time. I'll never let that go until I get him justice." Ben and Edward continue to watch us closely.

"The sentiments of a loving daughter," he murmurs, his hand moving slowly down my back.

"The sentiments of a grieving daughter." I attempt to leverage my hand to push him away, but he holds onto me tightly.

"The experience of grief reminds me of a saying I once heard, what was it…oh yes, 'that feeling you get in your stomach when your heart breaks. It's like all the butterflies just died.' That kind of tragedy would make anyone a bit desperate." As he speaks, I imagine the evil within his soul taking shape and wrapping its black tendrils around my body.

Ice invades my veins in defense. "I guess that's true."

Riley hums in return, his hand now moving up my back in a methodical manner.

My father's sketch flashes in my mind. Twisting the beautiful nature of butterflies is just one more reason to hate Riley Biers. "What is it with you and butterflies anyway?" I blurt out.

"They're mythical." The reverence in his voice is nauseating.

"Okay," I draw out. "Sam just thought it was girly." It's a purposeful taunt. His ego is his greatest weakness.

Riley's body stiffens. "Sam is a small fish in a big pond. I wouldn't pay too much attention to what he said, Bella."

"Maybe. But he still had some interesting theories though."

I feel him expel a long breath. "When are we going to stop playing games, Isabella?" His nails dig into the thin material at my back.

"What are you talking about?"

Pulling away, his gun-metal eyes penetrate mine. "Where is Sam?"

"I don't know what you mean. According to the FBI, you have Sam." I refuse to blink or look away, afraid that he will see the lie.

"Let's not treat each other like fools. You and I both know what happened while you were away. I won't ask again. Where is Sam?"

"Why are you so concerned about him, Riley? Got something to hide, or are you just a fan of his work?"

His eyes flash. "I'm waiting," he spits out harshly.

Looking around, I realize that he has somehow danced us into the middle of the crowd. Swarmed, I can't see past the bodies to see Edward and Ben anymore. Riley suddenly stops our movements, and pulls back enough to reach into a pocket hidden within his suit jacket. Fear trickles down my spine. I doubt whatever he's reaching for is good.

_"It would be easy to get lost in here, if you know what I mean."_ Ben's words haunt me. Fuck, what did I get myself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm mean and horrible, but my plan is to post a shorter chapter next week so that I don't torture you for long. :)


	21. Chapter 19: Disturbia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to TLS and Evilnat for rec'ing this story! I continue to be amazed by the support of this story.
> 
> A huge thank you to those of you who have voted for this story as Favorite Crime Fanfic in the Multifandom Awards! First round voting will continue until 06/14. If I make it to the second round, voting will be from 06/15 through 06/22.
> 
> As always, a debt of gratitude to LostInPA for her help with each chapter.

Chapter 19: Disturbia

_"The universe is always speaking to us… Sending us little messages, causing coincidences and serendipities, reminding us to stop, to look around, to believe in something else, something more."_

_Nancy Thayer_

* * *

Looking around, I realize that he has somehow danced us into the middle of the crowd. Swarmed, I can't see past the bodies to see Edward and Ben anymore. Riley suddenly stops our movements, and pulls back enough to reach into a pocket hidden within his suit jacket. Fear trickles down my spine. I doubt whatever he's reaching for is good.

_"It would be easy to get lost in here, if you know what I mean."_  Ben's words haunt me. Fuck, what did I get myself into?

Everything slows as I watch him fumble in his pocket, perhaps purposefully, to draw out the tension.

_It's too small to be a gun._

Pushing back against the tight grip of his arm, I try unsuccessfully to maneuver away. Just as I see the tip of something silver, a voice stops him cold.

"May I cut in?" Edward asks, emerging from the crowd.

Riley slides his hand out of his pocket, but keeps me within his grasp. "I don't believe we were finished, Cullen."

"Yes." I rush out, talking over Riley's dismissal. "My dance with Mr. Biers is done."

Using the distraction to my advantage, I finally break out of his hold. However, before I can completely escape, Riley latches onto my arm, his nails pressing painfully into my skin.

Edward reaches out to grab my other arm and wedges himself between us, leaving me in an uncomfortable tug-of-war. "The lady has spoken. I suggest you let her go before I create a scene."

"You sure you want to take that risk? Stone cold Edward Cullen loses it. I can see the headlines now," Riley sneers.

"I think you have a lot more to lose than me," Edward growls. Riley glares in return. "Do I need to spell it out for you, Biers? You're already under suspicion for the disappearance of a Federal Agent. You want to add assault on an officer of the court to the list too?"

Riley's eyes shift to me when he mentions Sam. "You my lawyer now? Why would you care what the feds think I did or did not do?"

"I don't really. In fact," Edward says slowly, "all that attention actually works in my favor. Investors tend to frown on negative press. So go ahead, make a fool out of yourself."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ben pushing his way through a group of dancers, his eyes deadly. Once he sees that Edward is with me, he halts his movements and blends back into the crowd, keeping us within his sights to monitor the situation.

"You shouldn't underestimate me." The chill of Riley's words makes me shiver.

"No." Edward pushes in closer, his face inches from Riley's. "You shouldn't underestimate me. Let. Her. Go."

Riley releases me with a smirk, holding up his hands in mock defeat. "Have it your way. The night is young. There's plenty of time for me to finish my conversation with Ms. Swan." His eyes glide down my body, his foreboding promise lingering as he walks backwards with a sickening smile.

Edward quickly wraps his arms around me, mimicking Riley's early stance except this time my body exhales in relief as we sway from side to side.

"You're timing is impeccable." Although I want to lean into him, I maintain my distance, remembering that as far as anyone else is concerned, I'm not a fan of Edward's either.

"What the hell was that?" Edward whispers harshly.

"He definitely knows about what happened with Sam and wants to know where he is. He was about to pull something out of his pocket…if you hadn't shown up when you did…" My body starts to shake, my mind finally processing what could have happened.

Edward stops his movements. "You're leaving," he declares.

Planting my feet and tightening my hands, I discreetly prevent him from moving us off the dance floor. I know Riley is watching, so it can't look as if I'm the one who wants to keep dancing.

"Stop," I hiss. "I'm not leaving. I'll just make sure that I'm not alone with him again. He's on edge, Edward. This is our opportunity to make him crumble. I'm not going to let this chance pass by." Riley clearly has an agenda, but I still believe that we can force him to slip up. Once that happens, Rose can play clean up and arrest his ass.

Edward starts to move again, although I can feel the tension radiate through his body. "I hate that you're right. No more taking chances though, this place is ripe for an easy abduction."

"Thank goodness I have that handy tracker then." His narrowed eyes tell me that my attempt at witty banter has fallen drastically short.

"This isn't funny, Bella."

"I know," I sigh. "I was lucky, I get it. It was too risky to go with him. It won't happen again."

"What was in his pocket?"

"I don't know. I never got a good look. It could have been a knife or a needle. It wasn't big."

"Fuck. I don't like this."

"I don't either, but I'm also tired of these games. I just want this over. I want my life back."

"So, do I," he whispers, tightening his grip.

"We should stop dancing," I suggest quietly, trying to ignore the electric pull of his presence. "I'm supposed to hate you."

"Right." His fingers flutter down my back. "Wouldn't want to give off the wrong impression."

"No we wouldn't," I murmur, watching as Ben moves towards us again.

"I'm having a hard time letting go."

"I know," I quickly squeeze the back of his suit jacket, letting him know that I understand. "Luckily for you, Ben is about to make it easier."

"Great," Edward grumbles, running his hand down my back one last time.

"Your time is up, Cullen," Ben says curtly, staying in character. Edward loosens his hold, his eyes not moving away from him.

"That is up to Bella, not you," Edward jibes.

"Thanks for the dance," I remark, stepping towards Ben.

He immediately flashes a cocky smile. "Guess she decided." Edward scowls, but doesn't respond to the dig.

"I'm thirsty. Walk me to the bar?" I ask, grabbing Ben's hand.

"Of course. This dance floor is a little too crowded for my liking anyway." Glaring once more at Edward, he leads me away.

Looking over my shoulder, I catch Edward's gaze as he watches us walk away. Standing still among the sea of dancing bodies makes him appear even sadder. Several feet away, Riley also stands amongst the crowd, probably eating up the dramatic crumbs of the interaction he just witnessed.

"What the hell happened with Riley?" Ben asks quickly.

"A stand-off. He believes that I know where Sam is, and was trying to push the issue when Edward showed up."

He releases a long breath. "No more risks, Bella. Stick with one of us for the rest of the night. Got it?"

"Got it. You don't need to tell me twice."

Heading towards the crowded bar, Ben draws me in closer. "I can hear your mind working from here. What are you thinking?"

"Riley is close to the edge. Not knowing Sam's location is messing with his head. I think if we keep pushing him, he's going to make a major mistake."

"Tonight?" Ben asks disbelievingly. "I don't know. I think the best we can hope for is to plant some seeds of insanity and then step back to wait for him to fall apart. These strategies aren't often quick or easy."

"No, damn it! I've already lost too much time." I stop myself from succumbing to the childish desire to stamp my feet in frustration. I'm tired of playing games. "Waiting for years doesn't work for me."

"Nobody said anything about years."

"The FBI had three years of information on Riley, and my office still had to be convinced that there was enough to prosecute. Once the truth about Sam comes out, all of that will be lost. It's a defense attorney's dream. His evidence becomes fruit of the poisonous tree. I don't want to start back at square one."

Ben grabs my shoulders, bending to eyelevel. "Hey, tonight is about shaking him up, not solidifying a case."

"It is for me," I maintain. "Especially since he seems to be right on the edge. All we need to do is push him over."

"You really think that you can rebuild a case against him tonight?"

"If I can get him to admit to knowing about Sam's extracurricular activities, and my father's murder, absolutely."

"And that will be enough to put him away for good?"

"Yes. Admitting to those is, at the very least, multiple counts of accessory after the fact." Ben opens his mouth, probably to argue the lesser charge, but I hold up my hand to stop him. " _But_ , I suspect if we investigate who was bankrolling that apartment, we'll find a trail back to Riley. Since Sam brought the girls back there to torture and murder, any good prosecutor could argue for a conviction of felony murder. That's at least, two counts of murder in the first, along with the accessory charge for my dad."

"We'll need something concrete, something on tape," Ben interjects, his face thoughtful.

"Thank God for cellphones," I smile, patting the small purse hanging from my shoulder.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Rose unexpectedly shouts from behind me.

Swallowing the sudden knot in my throat, I turn around to find Rose and Jasper standing behind us. "Hey, where have you been?" I ask, hoping that they didn't overheard our conversation.

"Trying to order a drink," Jasper answers. "It's chaos over there."

Rose doesn't answer, obviously distracted. "Who's here?" I question, addressing her earlier statement. Following her line of vision, I spot Edward walking towards a table on the outskirts of the dance floor.

Her focus doesn't waver. "Doesn't he have his own life? We have enough going on tonight without his drama."

"Riley invited him," I state, indifferently. "I guess they're vying for the same business opportunities."

Rose raises her eyebrow. "All of the same business opportunities?"

"Rose," Jasper warns, glimpsing at me with sympathetic eyes. "Don't jump to conclusions. Edward might be an ass, but that doesn't make him a criminal."

"It doesn't matter to me," I assert. "I don't claim to know or care about what Edward has gotten himself into." Looking back towards the overcrowded bar, I grumble, "how in the hell are you supposed to get a drink in here anyway?"

"Tell them that you know the owner." The sound of Riley's voice slithers around me. "You should have stayed with me, Bella. Apparently, I'm the only one who can get you what you need." Snapping his fingers, a cocktail waitress suddenly appears with a tray. "Get Ms. Swan and her friends whatever they want, and don't make them wait again."

After giving her our orders and watching her sashay away, I glance at Riley with distain. "Do you always have girls waiting in the wings to attend to cater to your every need?"

Holding up his glass, he winks. "I see you finished your dance. Care for another spin?"

"I think I've had my fill of dancing, both experiences left a bad taste in my mouth." I hold his glowering stare, each of us daring the other to look away first.

"Shame," he murmurs taking a drink without breaking his scowl.

The waitress returns with our drinks, handing them out and then rushing off. I look down into my glass, cursing my distrust of the handled drink. I could really use some liquid courage to help continue my verbal jabs.

"So Riley, what did you do with Sam?" Rose blurts out. "I'm curious what he found out about you that made you so uneasy? Maybe it had something to do with Bella's dad."

The glass almost slips from my hand when the unanticipated inquiry passes her lips. Although I shared my suspicions about Riley's connection to my dad's murder before I left for Ben's cabin, I didn't expect her to be so blunt about it tonight. Ben flicks his eyes to mine, both of us morbidly curious as to whether this is going to help or hurt our goal.

Riley laughs loudly, overplaying his reaction. "Ms. Hale, how adorably clueless you are."

"I don't think there's anything  _adorable_  about a missing agent."

"Rose," Jasper hisses, leaning down to whisper in her ear. I hope that he's reigning her in. Pushing Riley is one thing, but losing your edge is another.

"Yes,  _Rose_ ," he draws out, sarcastically mimicking Jasper. "You've shown nothing but distain since your arrival, and I don't believe I done anything to warrant such treatment, especially from an  _uninvited_  guest."

Straightening her spine, she attempts to rush Riley only to have Jasper stop her. "Let's go for a walk," he says, pulling on her elbow.

Rose narrows her eyes, as if trying to destroy Riley through vison alone. "Fine," she grits out before reluctantly following Jasper towards the entrance.

"Your friend is quite the spit fire," Riley comments humorlessly, downing the rest of his drink.

"You look worried. Afraid that she's on to you?" I ask, taunting him further.

"Sam sounds like a good agent. I can understand her anger," Ben adds.

"Oh, he was definitely a  _cut_ above the rest." I watch gleefully as Riley struggles not to react.

"That's cute, Bella," he spits out, taking a menacing step forward.

"What? I'm just expressing my concern."

"Uh huh." His eyes narrow. "I'm tired of these games. We need to talk. In private." He moves in closer, reaching out to grab me.

Ben quickly steps between us. "I suggest you back off."

"Listen,  _Ben_. You're not a part of this and you don't want to be a part of this. Why don't you be a good boy, and just take a walk?" Handing his glass to a passing waitress, he pulls a money clip out of his back pocket and starts counting bills. "In fact, since you're new in town, why don't you go explore the city, on me."

"Wow, Mr. Biers." Ben exclaims with false enthusiasm, sounding impressed until the octave of his voice dramatically lowers. "You really don't know anything about me if you think that money will persuade me to leave Bella's side. I'll tell you what, why don't you take your cash and go fuck yourself."

Even though his fist tightens around the cash, Riley smiles, seemingly impressed by Ben's gumption. "Another uninvited guest who doesn't know their manners," he says lowly, clicking his tongue.

Moving my eyes towards Edward's table, I hope to catch his eye. If this continues, Ben is going to need back up. Unfortunately, he's no longer there, and glancing around the room, I can't find him anywhere else.

"Sir." One of Riley's bouncers interrupts, eyeing Ben up and down.

"I'm fine," Riley snarls.

"Yes, Sir. There's urgent business that requires your attention."

"What?" Riley asks, finally turning away from Ben.

"You said to find you when it arrived."

Riley's eyes widen as he decodes the vague message. "Yes, yes. I'll be right there."

Looking back, he throws me a crooked smile. "That's two, Ms. Swan. There won't be three." Quickly turning, he follows the bouncer past the stairs and down a hallway.

"This isn't going to work, Bella," Ben exhales, scrubbing his face.

"Why?"

"He's on edge alright, but he's also not going to say anything unless you two are alone. And since that not's going to happen, the best we can do is shake him up."

"I don't know—"

"You're playing this perfectly. That line about Sam being 'a cut above the rest' was brilliant, but he's not going to admit to any knowledge in this crowd."

My breath rushes out in defeat. Maybe he's right, but I'm still having a hard time letting the idea go. Glancing across the room again, I finally spot Edward. He's dancing with Kate and my stomach drops at the sight. They look cozy together.

"Part of the game," Ben whispers, reading my uncertainty.

"I know." I lie, still affected by the vision in front of me. Mentally shaking myself, I focus back on the goal. "Now what?"

Ben peers down at his watch. "I have a check-in, which means you need to stay with Jasper."

"I can't come with you?"

"Riley is watching you a lot closer than me. Having you with me will make it more difficult to make contact. It won't take long."

"Right." I nod my head begrudgingly, the night suddenly feeling like a bust.

"We aren't done yet. The more we taunt him with where Sam is and what he knows, the more he will unravel. Come tomorrow, he'll probably start making some moves. His plan will crack soon enough, Bella, and we'll be there when it happens."

"Okay," I say quietly, still trying to figure out a way to get Riley to talk tonight.

Ben lightly kisses my cheek, dragging his mouth over to whisper in my ear. "Spy work is all about delayed gratification, Justice. But that also makes it worth it in the end."

Nodding my head again, we walk over to where Jasper is leaning against the wall, watching Rose talk on the phone.

"I'll see you soon. Be good!" Ben points his finger at me before getting lost in the crowd.

"Where is he going?" Jasper asks.

"Bathroom. How's Rose?" I lean against the wall next to him watching her pace.

"Exhausted. She's been working non-stop since Sam disappeared. She's close to crashing."

"Who's she talking to?"

"Emmett. He's the only one who can calm her down."

"Maybe she should leave, and you can take the mic," I suggest, leaning against his shoulder.

"Let's see if he can reach her. If not, that's probably a good idea."

Rose abruptly looks at the two of us with a "what the fuck" look. I give her a little wave, to which she shoos us away.

"Guess she doesn't want an audience," Jasper grumbles, watching as she places her hand on her hip, waiting for us to go.

"And people think that I'm stubborn," I snicker, pulling Jasper off the wall.

Leaving Rose to continue her conversation, we walk back to where we were before. Hopefully, Ben will think to look here when he doesn't see us with her. Scanning the area, I catch sight of Riley again. Whatever he needed to take care of certainly didn't take long.

He's surprisingly standing next to Kate by the end of the bar. With a characteristic smirk, he twirls a strand of hair around his fingers, to which she quickly bats him away. I can't see the look on her face, but he's laughing. Grabbing a drink, she pushes him once more and then walks away. As the scene unfolds, an elusive feeling tugs on my consciousness, one that's fleeting and difficult to catch. I shift closer to Jasper, hoping that it eases.

Glancing around the room again, I attempt to locate all the members of my team. Kate has marched herself over to Edward, who is at a table several feet away while Rose continues to pace by the entrance. Examining the crowd again, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Ben walking back from his check-in, soothed by just knowing everyone's location.

Facing Jasper, I can still see Riley in my peripheral vision. He's staring in our direction. Turning my head, the crowd blurs as my eyes focus on his rigid frame. Looking at me with an ominous sneer, he slowly raises his glass and blows me a kiss. The intangible sensation floods my body again. It feels like I'm missing something important.

"Jasper," I hastily whisper, tugging on his sleeve. "Something's wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up...? (evil smirk)
> 
> Due to work commitments and a family vacation, the next chapter will post in a couple of weeks. We are down to just a handful of chapters left, which means the next several are going to be a bit of a rough ride. Hang in there, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve before all is said and done. ;)


	22. Chapter 20: Fight Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you to everyone for the votes, reviews and notifications, even though I am evil. ;) I love hearing from everyone!
> 
> LostInPA and Beautifulnightmarex were my rocks for this chapter. I am so glad to have their feedback and support.
> 
> Now on with the show, I know that you've been waiting way too long.

Chapter 20: Fight Inside

_"Sometimes, when chaos burns like wildfires around us, we have no other choice but to fall in love with the warmth."_

_Christopher Poindexter_

* * *

Facing Jasper, I can still see Riley in my peripheral vision. He's looking in our direction. Turning my head, the crowd blurs as my eyes focus on his rigid frame. Staring at me with an ominous sneer, he slowly raises his glass and blows me a kiss. The intangible feeling floods my body again. I feel as though I'm missing something important.

"Jasper," I whisper hastily, tugging on his sleeve. "Something's wrong."

"What?"

I can't break away from Riley. His penetrating gaze hypnotic as his sickening smirk twists my stomach.

"Bella?"

"Riley is up to no good." I feel hot and claustrophobic. Although I have no palpable evidence for the source of my alarm, the rational side of my brain still can't shake the increasing panic.

"What's he doing?" Jasper twists his head, following my line of vision.

"Nothing, he's just standing there." Undeterred, Riley continues to stare at me. I know that he's plotting. "It's not what he's doing, it's what he's planning to do."

"What is he planning? Did you find out?" He looks surprised, probably wondering why I didn't share the information earlier.

"No," I pause, considering my next words. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just have a feeling. Either he knows something we don't or he's planning something we didn't expect."

"Like what?" he asks with an exasperated sigh, repeating the question I can't answer.

"I don't know," I shriek, overwhelmed by the frustration of not having anything tangible to give him. "I just…I just have a feeling."

"Okay," Jasper responds slowly. "I don't mean to sound insensitive to your  _intuition_ , but what exactly are we supposed to do about a feeling?"

He's right and I hate it. I'm probably becoming worked up over nothing. Although I'm finding it difficult to end the staring contest, I try to convince myself that I'm overreacting. Unexpectedly, Riley breaks first to look down at his watch. With a bright smile, he finds my eyes again, pointing his fingers like a gun.  _Fuck_. Narrowing my eyes, I rapidly sift through all the possible scenarios. Winking, he mouths the word "bang", and before I can react, everything goes dark.

Screams fill the room when the lights and music go out. Jasper grabs onto me as bodies start to cram around us in confusion. "Stay calm," A man's voice yells out.

Loud pops alarmingly fill the air, and it takes me a moment to connect them to the sound of gunshots. The screams intensify as the crowd surges, mayhem and chaos overtaking the room.

"Bella!" Jasper shouts, grasping me tighter, trying to prevent our separation as we forcefully move along with everyone trying to rush the exit.

Sounds of breaking glass and more gunshots punctuate the increasing sounds of panic in the room. Squeezed uncomfortably between hundreds of bodies, it's hard to catch my breath as hands push and pull on my body. Jasper yanks me closer, yelling at the people around us to back off.

Disoriented, we continue to move, hopefully towards the exit. Gunshots fill the air again, the pressure intensifying as more people attempt to run. The rip tide like crowd abruptly wrenches me away from Jasper. Trapped, I'm unable to turn around or find my footing.

"Jasper!"

I don't know where he is, and I can't see past the shadowed bodies to find him.

" _Jasper_!"

Someone pushes me hard from behind causing me to stumble. Pain radiates through my body as I crash to the floor swarmed by legs and feet. I can't get up.

"JASPER!"

My scalp burns as my hair is jerked and tugged. I'm unable to protect my head; I need my hands to get up. Maneuvering until I'm on all fours, a foot suddenly slams into my chest. Crumbling, I try desperately to catch my breath, the agony increasing with each kick and stomp.

"Jas…" I try to call out again, but his name stops short as another foot catches me in the temple. My stomach rolls and my eyes blur. The pain is unbearable as more people walk over me. Finally, the tide pulls me under, everything else fading away.

* * *

_The board dips with the waves while my feet swing in the water, the sun warm against my back. A few feet ahead, Edward catches a wave, angling his board towards the shore._

_"He's improving," Dad observes, sitting on a board next to me. I feel good. It's been a great morning._

_"He is." I smile, happy that he noticed Edward's hard work. "Although he's got nothing on the master," I joke, bowing down to him._

_"You better believe it, kid. Never forget that nobody, especially some punk that you're dating, will ever have anything on your old man."_

_"Never!" I sarcastically scoff._

_"Except he's not some punk is he?" he asks seriously._

_"Huh?"_

_"Bella, I've known ever since you brought him home that this guy is important to you. Is it time to start reviewing your wedding fund?"_

_"Dad!" I'm glad Edward is several feet away, I'm sure my face is beet red._

_"What? As your father and wedding financier, I think I deserve the courtesy of a fair warning."_

_Ignoring my Dad's probing stare, I watch as Edward successfully catches another wave, the sun shining down on him like a beacon. My heart swells at the sight._

_"We haven't gotten that far, so just leave it alone," I whisper, acutely aware of how easily conversations carry over the water. "Besides, I don't know if we're ready for that kind of commitment yet."_

_"Bullshit! That man loves you, kid. He looks at you as if you're his whole world. That kind of devotion is difficult to find. Believe me, you don't waste that once you've found it. Life is just too short."_

_Any retort I have falls away watching him look towards the horizon with watery eyes. My dad has never really gotten over my mother. He misses her every day, and would give anything to have just a little more time. It's a life lesson I should never forget. Deflated of any argument, I quietly turn to watch Edward attempt to take another drop._

_Falling into the surf, he pops up quickly, pulling his body back onto his board. He looks back at us, his smile gleaming. "Get over here!" he yells. "The waves are great unless you're afraid that I'm going to show you up, baby."_

_The term of endearment quickens my heart causing a tingling sensation to run through my body. Hearing it always makes me feel loved and secure._

_A wave of emotion hits me. "I love him," I admit softly. "It's sometimes scary and overwhelming, but I don't think I'll ever stop."_

_"You've always followed your heart, Bella. Trust it to lead you in the right direction."_

_My dad's voice sounds distant as the scene swirls in front of my eyes. Panic erupts. I'm not ready to let it go, but I can't stop it from fading away._

_"Always trust your heart."_

* * *

The memory fades into painful confusion. I've lost all sense of time and place. The only thing I know for sure is that my whole body hurts and I don't remember why.

"Bella? Bella, open your eyes."

Jasper's voice breaks through the darkness. I can hear sirens all around. Opening my eyes, I quickly slam them shut again as the light stings.

"Bella?"

"J-Jasper," I stutter, fluttering my eyes to help them adjust.

"Yeah. It's me." His relieved face fills my vision. There are scrapes on his cheek and a bandage across his forehead.

"What happen?" Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I look around realizing that I'm lying on a gurney in what looks like an ambulance.

"You were trampled."

"Trampled…" My disjointed thoughts are making it difficult to compute his words.

"Thank God someone carried you outside. You could have been killed." He looks up and exhales, clearly shaken. "That fucker started a stampede."

I struggle to sit up, the horrific memories of the club slowly returning. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a fucking psychopath."

"He never does anything without a reason…" My dread swells with a terrifying thought. "Wait where is everyone?" I swing my eyes around wildly looking for other familiar faces.

"It's okay. Calm down." Jasper places his hand on my shoulder, trying to soothe me. "Rose and Emmett are helping to control the scene. She was close to the exit and was able to get out quickly."

"What about Ben and Edward?" I try to scoot off the gurney, but Jasper gently pushes me back.

"Ben's looking for Edward. He was pretty banged up, but he's okay."

"What do you mean  _looking_  for Edward? No one knows where he is?"

"Not yet—"

"I need to go." I push forward again only to have Jasper's hand stop me.

"I said 'yet', Bella. There's a lot of chaos. I'm sure he's fine, just lost in the commotion."

"I told you something was wrong," I hiss. "This isn't over. Riley planned this. I know it."

Emmett and Rose appear in the door, both winded and sweaty. Rose has a bandage around her hand but the rest of her looks unscathed.

"Thank God you're awake." Emmett jumps in to stand across from Jasper.

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up. How does it look out there? Did you find Edward?" I rattle off quickly.

Emmett grabs my hand sympathetically. "Not yet."

"It's a mess out there," Rose interjects. "Riley just added five other murders to his name."

"Five people are dead?" I ask shocked.

"Trampled," Emmett answers stoically.

"No one was shot?" The popping sounds haunt my memories.

"No," Rose answers. "We think they were just for effect."

"To cause the stampede," I murmur, putting the pieces together. "Jesus. I want to help." Shifting to the edge of the gurney, I glare when Jasper raises his hand again.

"I think someone should clear you before you start running around. You were unconscious for a while," he argues.

I glance towards the empty seats in the front. "If my injuries are so serious, where are the medics?"

"There are lots of people with more serious injuries—" Jasper stops suddenly when he realizes that he's helping to prove my point.

"And since I'm fine, I shouldn't be using this bed." Turning to Emmett, I squeeze his hand. "I  _need_  to find him."

Emmett looks into my eyes, hopefully recognizing my desperate resolve. "Okay," he relents. "But you need to stay close and let someone know if you feel dizzy or sick."

"Promise," I assert, ignoring Jasper's disapproving look.

Gingerly stepping out of the ambulance, my breath hitches at the scene around me. Hundreds of people are scattered along the road and parking lot. Most are sitting or lying down holding a bandage on some part of their body. Other ambulances, police vehicles, and fire trucks surround us, the sounds of muffled crying and voices filling the air. To my right, medics are working frantically on a man, his head a bloody mess.

"Oh my God." I'm shocked by the senseless act.

"This fucking prick needs to pay," Rose snarls. "There was no reason for this."

Spinning to face her, I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness hits. Luckily, it passes quickly. "But that's just it. He wouldn't do this without a reason. We need to figure out what it was."

"She's right. This whole night was a setup," Emmett adds. "Now the question is what could he hope to gain?"

"I'm not sure." My eyes scan the crowd, hoping to find Edward. The thought of losing him again is terrifying.

"I think it was to grab Bella," Rose hypothesizes. "He's been trying to play games with her all night."

I ponder her theory, but I can't make it fit with the evidence. "I don't think so. If that were his goal, I wouldn't be here. There's no way he would have pulled the trigger on this if he wasn't sure that people were in place to take me."

"She right," Emmett agrees. "I doubt he'd set this up if there was a chance it wouldn't work."

"There's Ben," Jasper says abruptly, pointing to my left.

Turning, I watch as Ben maneuvers around the crowd, his eyes locking with mine. He's limping and blood tinged gauze is wrapped around his forearm. There's also a bandage across his forehead, the rest of his face bruised and swollen. He looks terrible. Out of all of us, he was the furthest from the door. I can't imagine what he had to fight through to make it out of there alive.

As soon as he's close enough, I run into his arms. "I'm so glad that you're okay."

Pulling away, he holds my face, searching it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Where's Edward?"

His eyes shift to the side as his face twists into a disturbing frown. "I don't know. No one can find him."

I glance back quickly making sure that I'm out of earshot. "What about the 'angels'?"

"They lost sight of everything when the power went out. And things are a fucking mess out here."

No, he's wrong. They're supposed to be guardian fricken angels, they have to know where he is. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"

Dropping his hands, he purses his lips. "It means we can't fucking find him."

This can't be real. Spinning around, I walk around Ben, scanning the crowd around me. "He has to be here."

"Unless taking him was Riley's goal tonight," Ben suggests darkly.

"Why would Riley want Edward?" Emmett asks. Focused on my conversation, I'd missed all three of them moving closer to us.

Ben gives me a sideways glance but doesn't respond. It would be easy for him to suggest it is due to Edward's business ties, but the look on his face tells me that the terrifying truth is making it difficult for him to put on a show.

"Oh God," I whisper, my weary brain jumping quickly to the only thing that would cause that look. "Riley knows doesn't he?"

"We don't know for sure," Ben says lowly.

"Know what?" Rose asks suspiciously.

"Bullshit," I hiss. "Don't pull this crap with me, not now, not after everything."

"There's something you're not telling us," Jasper accuses. Rose and Emmett step even closer, both with the same confused, yet suspicious look.

"We're pretty sure Riley had him grabbed," Ben answers them vaguely.

"Why are you so sure?" Emmett challenges.

Ben's eyes shoot up frustrated. "Because of Bella! Do you think for one second if he were conscious that he wouldn't be running around here looking for her? He would have contacted…" His mouth shuts quickly.

Ben doesn't need to finish his statement for me to know what he meant. Edward would have made contact with whoever in the hell these "angels" were to find me.

My mind doesn't want to believe it. "No, no!" I shout, shaking my head quickly. "Maybe he's hurt."

"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" Rose demands, but even with her aggravated tone, I barely register that she's talking.

"We looked!" Ben insists. "The club has been evacuated and the most serious cases placed in this area. He's  _not_ here."

"I'm going to lose it if you two don't stop talking in code. What's going on?" Emmett asks, grasping my shoulder to turn me towards him.

I glance back at Ben, panicked. I don't know what to say anymore. Ben pulls at his hair and turns around, I can hear his mumbled voice as he argues with himself.

"Fuck it! They can fire me," he shouts, swinging back around to face us. "Edward is working undercover."

"What?!" Jasper and Rose simultaneously shout.

"Undercover for who?" Emmett sneers, narrowing his eyes.

"CIA," Ben answers.

"And you knew about this?" Emmett looks at me, an accusatory fire burning in his eyes.

"Hey!" Ben steps between us. "Back off. She just found out."

"How long has he been undercover?" Rose questions, placing her hand on Emmett's shoulder to calm him down.

"Three years," I whisper.

"That's why he left," Jasper comments quietly, his mind working to put all the pieces together.

"Fuck!" Emmett starts to pace. "I'm his fucking best friend. I've been worried as hell about his behavior and all this time…" He faces off with Ben again. "He could have told me."

Ben scoffs. "If you would stop reacting for a moment and rationally think about this, you'd damn well remember that's not allowed in the CIA. We're fucking 'spooks' remember?"

" _We're_?" Rose hisses.

"You're CIA too?" Emmett growls, shifting his narrowed eyes towards me. "What kind of fucking game is this?"

"Stop! Just stop!" I yell, holding my hands up to prevent Emmett and Ben from moving towards each other. "I know this is a lot. God knows I know that, but we don't have time to work this out or explain. We have to find Edward. That's all that matters right now."

"She's right," Jasper agrees, always the voice of reason. "We don't have time to sort this through."

Rose takes a deep breath, straightening her spine. "Fine. What do you have?"

"Follow me," Ben commands, walking away.

We follow him through the crowd. The damage Riley did is sickening. I imagine he packed the club purposely, ensuring complete chaos so that he could easily grab Edward. But for what purpose? Riley wouldn't do this without a bigger endgame.

My chest feels heavy and constricted. I knew there was the possibility of something going wrong tonight, but I wasn't prepared for how the thought of losing Edward would affect me. Haunting pictures from my recently remembered surfing trip plays on a loop, my subconscious mocking me.

The life lesson I was never supposed to forget suddenly crashes down around me. Life is too short to deny how we feel, and now because of my stubbornness, I might never get the chance to tell Edward the truth. He has expressed his feelings so many times over these last few days, even though I've expressed nothing in return. I would give anything to tell him that no matter how difficult the road might be, our love is worth the fight.

For the first time in months, I look towards the sky and send up a silent prayer. _Please, keep him safe. Don't let him give up._

It takes us several minutes to move through the crowd and down the street towards a nondescript van. When we get close, the door of the van slams open and an irate Angela storms out. "What in the hell are you doing, Cheney?" It shouldn't surprise me that Angela would be one of Edward's angels. They seemed to know each other well at the lock-up facility.

"Cheney?" Rose shouts.

"Not now," I hiss, ignoring her glare.

"I'm trying to save Edward. Which means we need all the help we can get right now."

"That's not how this works and you know it."

"Look at my face. Do you think that I care?" Angela doesn't budge. "Look, we can do this together or we can do this by ourselves, it's your choice. Nothing is going to stop me from finding him."

Angela evaluates everyone, contemplating Ben's ultimatum. He appears confident in his belief that we can do this on our own. However, without their tech equipment, I don't see how we can possibly find out anything quickly.

"Fine," she concedes, buying into Ben's argument. "But it's your ass."

Ben nods his head before following her into the van. Although it's large, it is still too small for all of us to fit into at the same time. Fortunately, I can still see the various monitors set up to provide surveillance for tonight standing by the door. Several of them show the empty club. The damage is immense.

"Where are we at?" Ben's tone is sharp and official.

"We don't have a lot." The man sitting in front of the monitors answers. He looks well-built and is wearing a black hoodie, which makes it difficult to see his face fully from this angle. However, I don't think I've seen him before. His fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard as he brings up various pictures taken in the club. "These are screenshots from the cameras a few seconds before everything went dark."

He shifts one of the pictures to the forefront and enlarges it. "There's Edward standing next to Kate." They are where I remember them, standing by the table with their drinks. He's smiling, although it looks like his eyes are focusing on something else.

Ben takes a seat next to him, leaning forward to look closely at the screen. "I don't recognize anyone around him, but it's hard to know who could have been working for Riley."

"Right, but I did find something interesting when I went back about twenty minutes earlier." He pulls up another set of pictures, once again enlarging a specific one. "Riley's security shuffled this guy into the club through the back door."

"He's surrounded," Ben remarks quietly, analyzing the picture.

"Yeah. Riley wanted to make sure he wasn't seen. It took some searching and digital enhancement, but I was finally able to get a partial shot of his face." He pulls up another picture, slightly blurry due to the multiple enhancements. "Is that who I think it is?"

My eyes narrow, trying to get a better look. It's hard to see from here.

"Fuck," Ben breaths. "I'd bet my career that's Alec."

"Alec?" I yell, fear automatically flooding my body at the mention of his name. "Did he take Edward?"

Ben turns to look at me with sympathetic eyes. "He wasn't around Edward when the lights went out, but he was probably involved in helping Riley to pull this off."

"Alec? The guy who attacked you in the alley, Alec?" Emmett looks between Ben and I, trying to catch up to our conversation. "I guess this proves that he does work for Riley."

"You have no idea," I mutter, reminding myself that my friends still have no idea about what happened in Seattle.

Emmett is about to question me further when the guy holds up his hand to stop us, watching as someone walks by. "I think we need to take this party someone else. Riley probably has eyes all over this place."

"He's right," Ben states. "Let's go back to Bella's house."

I shake my head. "We can't leave, not without Edward. We don't know for sure that Riley has him."

Ben steps out of the van and places his hands on my shoulder. "Bella, he's gone. You know I wouldn't leave if I thought there was any chance that we would find him here."

"What about Kate? Maybe she knows something."

"We can't find her either." Angela steps towards the edge of the van. "We assume they took her too."

"Oh," I whisper, defeated. Rationally I know they are right, but emotionally I'm having a hard time convincing myself to leave.

"We're going to find him, Bella." Emmett wraps his arm around my shoulder. "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Rose reprimands.

Emmett cuts his eyes to her. "Jesus, Rose. Give it a rest for just a second, for Bella's sake." I know Emmett is upset about me keeping things from him, but I hope his concern is a sign that we can work past it once this is all over.

"Someone has to be realistic. I mean look at Sam. We've had teams looking for him twenty-four hours a day and nothing."

I glance at Ben, but he subtly shakes his head. In all the commotion, I had forgotten that they still think that Riley has Sam.

"Okay people, the longer we stand around here, the more we are at risk. Let's move," Angela orders. Looking back towards the club, I wonder how in the hell I'm going to get my car.

As if reading my mind, Ben moves to the curb and raises his hand to catch the attention of an approaching cab. "We should be able to fit everyone between the van and a cab."

Grudgingly, I climb into the cab with Rose and Emmett, watching as everyone else piles into the van. The trip to my house is a blur. My mind is racing, sorting through plans, strategies, and options of ways to get Edward back.

Riley wants something. He wouldn't have carried out this elaborate scheme without setting his eyes on a bigger prize. Given his behavior all night, I realize that it probably has to do with me. However, at this point, I don't really care. I'll do whatever it takes to get Edward back, even if it means playing right into his hand.

* * *

It takes almost an hour to drive back to my house and get everyone settled. My dining room table has become the command center with computer equipment sprawled across it. Ben and I are hovering nearby, watching as the man, who I now know to be Jake, types away analyzing all angles of the surveillance video trying to find any other leads.

Angela is in the living room tracking down various contacts trying to find information about Riley's next move. So far, we have nothing. I've successfully avoided having to answer more questions about Edward or Ben. However, I can feel my friends' eyes tracking me as I move. It's only a matter of time before one of them requests to continue the conversation.

"Damn it!" Jake slams his hand down on the table. "I was hoping that cameras in the area might have caught sight of them leaving, but nothing."

Frustrated, I grab Ben's shirt and drag him down the hallway to a private room. "We need to talk to Sam."

"Why?" Ben asks, fixing his shirt after I release it.

"He might know where Riley would take Edward."

"Even if he did, he's not going to tell us."

"He'll tell me," I insist.

"Bella, just stop and think for a second. You said it yourself, Riley knows that we have Sam. He wouldn't take Edward anywhere that Sam would know about."

"Jesus. Then what good is it to have Sam in the first place?" I yell, frustrated. I know he's right, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

"What do you mean you have Sam?" Rose demands from behind us.

"Fuck," Ben hisses.

Slowly, I turn to face Rose, Emmett, and Jasper. "Rose—" I'm suddenly dumbstruck, my frenzied brain unable to form a rational response.

"You knew? This whole time?" Rose shouts, stepping into my personal space. "You let us run around like idiots when you knew all along the CIA was hiding Sam! They kidnapped a good agent to what, advance some spook agenda? How fucked up is that?"

I know her information is limited, but her words anger me nonetheless. "He killed my father!" I blurt out, jaws dropping all around me. "You have every right to be mad and I hated lying to you, but I can't feel bad for Sam. He can go to hell for all I care."

"What are you talking about?" Emmett demands through clenched teeth.

Unwanted tears cloud my vision, the emotions of the night getting to me. "I don't even know where to start. It's a crazy and convoluted story."

"The beginning is always good," Jasper whispers.

I breathe out a derisive laugh. I used similar words with Edward not too long ago. "Sam was working for Riley the whole time."

Rose's eyes widen. "How do you know that?"

"He told me. He was being paid to make sure the case never went anywhere."

"Holy shit!" Emmett hisses.

"Why would he tell you? And how does your dad fit in? He didn't have anything to do with Riley's case." Rose's pressured words feel like a verbal attack.

Taking a deep breath, I decide which question to tackle first. "Turns out that Sam was a busy boy. In between his regular job and working for Riley, he was also stalking and killing women in Seattle. My dad had been assigned two of those cases."

"My God," Jasper whispers, walking over to the bed to sit down, placing his head in his hands.

Another bitter laugh escapes from my lips. "You have no idea. He's a sick man."

"How do you know all of this? Where's the proof?" Rose asks, shifting her weight from side to side.

"I told you about the picture I found in Dad's journal," Their heads nod. "Well, he thought that there was a connection between the murders and Riley, so he called Sam for help. He killed my dad to keep the truth from coming out. And when I showed that picture to Sam, things started to unravel."

"You were getting too close," Emmett surmises.

"Still, why would he be stupid enough to tell you?" Jasper questions.

"He, umm…," Ben lightly squeezes my shoulder in support when I stop, "...he tried to kill me during my trip. He told me then."

Emmett's body stiffens. "He what?"

"He tried to kill her in Seattle. Edward and I were able to stop him. He's been in our custody ever since," Ben remarks, articulating the story better than I could have right now.

"I have no words," Rose whispers. "I don't even know where to start at how fucked up this situation is."

"How does Riley fit into all of this?" Jasper asks.

"Riley helped him clean up the murder to save his own skin, including paying someone to tamper with the evidence. To top it off, they were going to use my grief to help get Riley off his impending charges."

The room falls into silence, everyone's head spinning to absorb all of the information. Before we can discuss it further, Angela rushes into the room.

"We have contact," she says ominously.

"Edward?" I ask anxiously.

Her solemn face is the only answer I need. "No, Riley."

"So he does know.  _Fuck_!" Ben turns and punches the wall. The loud smack makes me jump. "Now what?"

"He wants to broker a deal. Edward for Sam."

"Fantastic," Ben spits out sarcastically.

"Do we know how he found out?" Emmett asks, his body tensing.

"No," Angela sighs. "Which makes everything even more difficult not knowing where the breach is coming from."

"Why?" Jasper enquires quietly.

"Why what?" Angela focuses on Jasper with a questioning stare.

"The CIA doesn't negotiate for their agents. That's well known. Why take the risk? Asking for the trade is as good as admitting to the fact that he's committed crimes. It makes no sense."

"Unless this is his endgame," Ben suggests. "He knew we were closing in. That, combined with losing ground with the gangs might be enough to make him want to cut his losses and run. He's disappeared before. He probably believes that he can do it again."

"That still doesn't account for calling the CIA. He knows they won't deal," Jasper argues.

"Interestingly, he doesn't want to deal with anyone in the CIA. He only wants to deal with you, Bella. In person," Angela divulges.

"No way!" Ben yells, stepping in front of me.

"Obviously we aren't agreeing to do it," Angela responds. "Mr. Whitlock is right, the CIA doesn't negotiate."

"But we have to," I assert moving around Ben. I can't lose Edward again.

"We can't hand Sam over. I don't want Edward to get hurt either, but he knew the risk going in. Besides," Angela looks at me sadly, "we don't know if he's even alive."

I ignore her last statement. I refuse to believe that he's dead. Riley has something else in mind if he wants me to meet with him. "He wants to see me in person?" I ask slowly, a plan forming.

"Yes," Angela says hesitantly.

"Bella…" Ben hisses.

"Can't we say that we're going to make the deal and then take him down instead?"

"Don't be stupid, Bella," Emmett retorts. "Riley is too smart to set up any kind of contact without ensuring that you're by yourself or not being tracked. He wants to get you alone."

"Right. But I doubt he would suspect this." I hold up my arm, showing everyone the bracelet.

Angela grabs my wrist. "Is that a tracker?"

"Yes. Edward gave it to me tonight."

"Bella, let's think this through." Jasper stands up. "If this is about getting you and Sam, he's not going to release you once you arrive. If we lose track of your whereabouts, you  _and_ Edward are dead."

"I can do this. I have to do this," I stress. "And I trust you not to lose me. Edward wouldn't have given me this unless he believed it could save me."

"Bella, Edward won't want this." I narrow my eyes at Ben, shocked that he's not being more supportive about getting him back. "You think I  _don't_  want to get him? He's my best friend! And that's why I also know that he would want me to protect  _you_  first and foremost."

"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try. Don't ask me to live with that kind of guilt. Edward would do it for me, and he wouldn't let anyone stop him!" Ben glares but doesn't argue knowing that it's the truth.

"It might work," Rose says, finally involving herself in the conversation. "Riley's smart, but I think he's losing control. Why else would he set up this Hail Mary to get to Sam? This might be our shot to take him down."

"We would need to plan carefully." Angela lifts her hand and bites on the nail of her pinky contemplating.

"Then it's settled. I'm going."

Ben grabs my hand tightly. I'm taking a huge risk, but I also know there is no other choice. Dad told me to follow my heart, and right now, it's telling me to save Edward.

Standing tall, I look directly at Angela. "Okay, let's set this thing up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Bella makes a deal. See you next week! :)


	23. Chapter 21: Whatever It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for all the reviews and notifications! I was horrible this week at responding to the reviews, but it was for a good cause to make sure that I could get you this chapter in time. Please know that I appreciate every single one of them! :)
> 
> A huge shout-out to LostInPA for her beta awesomeness. I love working with her!

Chapter 21: Whatever It Takes

_"Sometimes it's the princess who kills the dragon and saves the prince."_

_Samuel Lowe_

* * *

The SUV bounces along the potholed filled road as I travel up the California coast, the scenery becoming more desolate as I go. I expected Riley to choose an isolated location for our meeting, but that still doesn't stop an eerie sensation from traveling through my veins as I scan the darkness around me.

It's been at least twenty minutes since I passed any type of civilization. Though if I were honest, I'd say that the tiny town consisting of only a couple of bed and breakfast hotels and a café barely qualified. The location is probably an inviting get away for many, but I've always had a hard time understanding the attraction, particularly tonight. The lights of the city at least give you a chance to see what's coming.

The trip so far has been a long and humbling exercise in patience. After agreeing to Riley's request, things moved quickly. He passed along a set of instructions for me to follow, reiterating that the deal would be off and Edward killed if anyone tracked or followed me. It gave our group only the night to scrape together a plan, the majority of which relies on my bracelet staying on and working.

The first step of Riley's instructions was to meet a member of his team at a warehouse downtown. As soon as I pulled into the tiny garage, a tall, dark-haired woman stepped out of the shadows wearing a masquerade mask. She immediately demanded that I strip down to my underwear, at which point she frisked me for any devices. As hoped, she didn't glance twice at the bracelet wrapped securely around my wrist.

"Give me your phone," she barked holding out her hand. Passing it over, she stuffed it into her back pocket and then grabbed my garments off the floor only to throw them into a large trash bin in the corner.

"Hey!" I yelled, garnering no response.

Standing in the cold, practically naked, I watched as she opened the trunk, praying that she wasn't going to have me get in. Instead, she pulled out a bag of clothes, including shoes, and told me to put them on. Disturbingly, everything, including the jeans, fit perfectly.

Once I was dressed, she beckoned me to follow her to a stairwell located at the back. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, we then went out another door leading to a terrace shared with a neighboring building. Entering the new building, she led me down another set of stairs and into an alley.

She was quiet, refusing to answer any question I posed, no matter how ridiculous. I admit the anxiety-ridden nature of the situation brought out my sarcastic side, especially when she continued to ignore me.

"How long have your worked for Riley?"

"What's your relationship with him?"

"Has he ever asked you to shine his shoes?"

"Are his guards clones?"

"Does he eat his vegetables? You know they're an important part of a balanced meal." Her only reaction was motioning with her hands when she felt that I was going too slowly. If I had any impact on her, she never showed it.

Several blocks and unanswered questions later, she led us to another unmarked building. I followed her into a small garage, where she threw me the keys for the lone car there. "Check the glove box," she whispered huskily, before slipping out the door and leaving me alone. Taking a deep breath, I begrudgingly followed her directions.

Opening the glove box, I found another set of instructions and a phone informing me what to do next. The convoluted experience was just the start of my trek to meet Riley, which included switching cars three more times and roundabout routes. He clearly wanted to make sure that no one could follow me.

Looking down at the pre-programmed GPS, I'm both relieved and terrified knowing that I only have twenty minutes left on my journey. Taking a focused breath, I shake out my neck and shoulders, mentally preparing for the showdown ahead.

"Get it together, Swan. You can do this just remember what Ben said. Stay focused, stay grounded, and don't let him get into your head."

* * *

_"He's going to try to use your emotions against each other. Don't let him," Ben states gruffly. "You're going to need to help Edward. This is his worst nightmare come true, so he might struggle at first. Take the lead if that happens."_

_"Okay."_

_"You can do this, Bella." He tugs me into a tight embrace. "I won't leave you alone for long, I promise."_

_"You better not."_

_He shifts his position to look at me. "This is it, the final act. Once tonight is through, you'll have your life back."_

_"Sounds too good to be true."_

_"Pashaw," he mocks. "Tell you what, if I'm right, you have to buy the celebratory breakfast. If I'm wrong, I'll buy."_

_"Wait a second, if you're wrong, there won't be a celebratory breakfast."_

_"Exactly! See how confident I am."_

_Before I can argue his flawed logic, Angela lets me know that it's time to go. Walking away, I glance back at Ben once last time._

_"Soon," he yells, raising his hand to wave goodbye._

_"Soon," I exhale, hoping to God that he's right._

* * *

The unexpected sound of the phone ringing yanks me from my memory and makes me jump. Shakily, I hit the answer button. "Yes." I don't feel the need for formalities.

"The lovely, Bella," Riley's disgusting voice oozes through the speaker. "I'm very happy to see that you can follow directions. I'm sure Edward appreciates it too."

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to give you some final instructions."

"Really? What hoop could you possibly want me to jump through now?"

"Given your situation, you might want to watch your tone."

"I'm following your demands. That's the best you're going to get."  _Don't let him get into your head._  "What are my instructions?"

He laughs. "I do like your spirit, Ms. Swan."

I looked down at the dot slowly moving towards the red mark at the end. "If you want me to know something before I get there, you'd better hurry."

"We have fifteen more minutes," he responds calmly. I guess that answers my question about how closely he's tracking me. "When you get here, stay in your car. I will have someone come and get you. Hand your phone over to them. You won't need it."

"Fine."

"See you soon, Bella." I can just imagine the smirk that accompanies his smarmy words.

"See you soon," I mimic, tightening my hands around the steering wheel. The phone clicks off, once again enveloping the SUV in silence.  _See you soon._

Several minutes later and right on schedule, the GPS comes to life. "In one mile, your destination will be on the left."

"Here we go," I mutter.

Pulling into the parking lot of what appears to be an abandoned motel; I do as instructed and wait. The place is reminiscent of a horror film from the seventies, warning any passerby to avoid stopping. Five tortuous minutes tick by as I scan the empty parking lot around me. I don't see anyone, but I can feel them watching, waiting. Just as I'm about to hit redial on the phone, a sliver of light brightens the porch to my right, my heart dropping when Alec walks out of one of the rooms.

"Great," I grumble, pushing my fear away.  _Stay focused._

Alec ambles towards me, his smile never wavering. I refused to move, even as he stands outside of my door tapping on the window. I will follow Riley's directions, but that doesn't mean I have to roll over either. When I hear the click of the handle, I strengthen my resolve and prepare to face hell.  _Stay grounded._

"Long time no see, Counselor. It's nice of you to make the trip," he says, opening the door.

Stepping out, I give him a fake smile. "Alec, right? Does Riley always pay you to clean up his messes?"

His smile turns into a sneer. "Hand over the phone."

Sliding it into his open hand, I look him straight in the eye. "Where's Edward?"

"Right to the point. I like that."

"I didn't come for the conversation. Are we going or not?"

Scrutinizing me, he puts the phone into his back pocket. "Come with me."

Aligning my shoulders, I follow Alec to a room adjacent to the dilapidated office. Taking a set of multicolored keys out of his pocket, he uses the blue one to unlock the door, his smile returning as he waves me through. Hearing the rattle of keys again, I look behind horrified to see him locking a double-sided lock, officially trapping us inside.

_Stay focused._

Remarkably, the interior of the room is vastly different from the crumbling exterior. The once meager hotel room is now a luxury office adorned with a large cherry-wood desk, leather furniture, and brightly polished hardwood floors. The upgrades had to cost Riley a fortune. It makes me wonder just how long he has used this motel for his bidding.

Speaking of the devil, he is sitting behind the desk with his hands clasped under his chin, apparently pleased that his prey has arrived. There are three other guards in the room with him. I remember them from the club. Anger burns in my gut knowing that his actions killed five people last night, and yet he and his men left the scene unscathed.

Riley suddenly frowns. "Poor, Bella. Would you like some aspirin, maybe some ice?"

My hand automatically flies up to cover the side of my scraped and bruised face. His smooth and sophisticated voice sounds sincere, and if I didn't know better, I could almost believe that he cared.

"I'm fine."

"Alright, but don't hesitate to let me or any of my men know if you change your mind. I want you to feel welcome here."

It's hard not to gag on the insincerity of his sweet tone. "I will. Thank you," I say, spewing my own fake pleasantries, even though there are plenty of other things I'd rather express.

"Please, have a seat." He gestures to one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Alec standing stiffly by the door, his arms clasped together in a traditional bodyguard stance. The lock still engaged behind him.

"I  _said_ , have a seat." Riley's voice takes on a threatening tone. The guards closest to me take a step forward when I don't immediately move.

Acquiescing before things get out of hand, I flop down in the chair dramatically. "I'm here. Let's do this."

Riley leans back in his chair as if contemplating my request. "I'm impressed that you came, especially for Edward." I stare at him but don't answer. He's fishing, and I don't intend to help. "I mean he hurt you deeply."

"I'm here to make a deal, not chit chat. What kind of trade are you proposing?"

"I don't think so," he replies vaguely.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not ready to discuss the trade." He pauses and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I think we've got more important business to attend to first."

Sitting back in the chair, I cross my arms. "Fine. Where's Edward?"

"Aww, now there's a request I'm willing to discuss." Getting out of the chair, he pulls a set of keys from his desk drawer. "In fact, in the spirit of good faith, I'll even take you to him."

Standing up, I wait to follow until he moves from behind his desk to the connecting door between two rooms. His guards quickly flank us when he knocks.

Alec moves in behind me. "Having fun?" he whispers, his breath wafting through my hair.

"Probably about as much fun as you had explaining to Riley why you screwed up in Seattle." He doesn't respond, but I can feel the heat of his anger.

"Walk," he snarls, pushing me through the now open door.

Several desks and computer screens line two of the walls with three men sitting around the various monitors. Entering the room, I watch as one of the men scrambles to hit a button on a small box. Immediately, all of the screens to go blank not allowing me a chance to see what's on them. Glancing quickly at the door that leads outside, I recognize the same double-lock as the one in Riley's office.

Without acknowledging them, Riley walks to another connecting door. This one does not look like anything that would have been part of the original motel. It's made of steel and includes several sturdy locks. Two more guards stand outside of it. My heart quickens knowing that Edward is most likely behind it.

Using the keys he grabbed from his desk, Riley unlocks each lock, but instead of opening the door, he turns to address me. "Because I'm feeling generous, I'm going to let you have some time alone before we conduct our business. You can thank me later." He flashes me a slimy wink and a smile.

Cracking the door, he leans in. "Don't try anything, Edward. I have a surprise for you."

Alec shoves me forward, allowing Riley to yank me in front of him. I feel slightly relieved watching their precautions. Edward must have given them trouble when they opened the door before, which means he's not seriously injured.

Opening the door a bit more, Riley quickly shoves me through, the door slamming shut behind me followed by the sound of locks engaging. Compared to the other rooms I've seen, this one is bleak and barren with yellowed walls and nothing but a cot covered with a faded blanket. Glancing quickly to my right, I'm dismayed to see that a concrete wall has replaced the motel door.

Edward is standing by the bed, his body in a fighter's stance. Anxiously, my eyes comb over him, needing to analyze every part. The suit he was wearing earlier is now torn, and several of the stains speckling his once white shirt appear to be dried blood. His knuckles are raw, and there are scrapes on his wrists indicative of being in restraints. His beautiful face looks tender and sore, the vibrant quality of his green eyes painfully standing out against the redness surrounding them.

Before I can pull myself together to say hello, I watch as his eyes go from shocked to sad, to enraged. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you okay?" I move forward and lift my hand to touch his face, but he moves away quickly.

"I asked what the fuck you're doing here, Bella."

"You would have come for me," I state calmly, knowing that there's really nothing else to say.

"Are you crazy? What in the hell were you thinking?" He frantically pulls at his hair. "I'm going to fucking kill Ben. He knows better."

"Like he could have stopped me." I lift my chin and stand taller. I knew he would be upset, but he needs to get past it. We have concerns that are more important than fighting about my presence.

"He should have locked you in a room," he spits out, placing his hands on his hips.

"I'm here, deal with it." I glance around the room trying to identify the location of cameras that are most likely watching us. I wish I could say more, but it's too risky.

Edward clenches his jaw tightly, his eyes cold. "You should have left it alone. This has  _nothing_ to do with you."

His icy words throw me, igniting my own anger. "This has everything to do with me, you selfish bastard! I can't lose you again! Don't you understand that?" His eyes widen, stunned by my words. I quickly turn around, aghast that I let my emotions get the best of me.

_This is his worst nightmare come true, so he might struggle at first._

Fuck, I need to get it together. "I'm sorry," I whisper, facing him again.

The anger suddenly rushes out of him, his head dropping in defeat. "You can't be here," he murmurs, shaking his head.

_You're going to need to help Edward._

"Hey." I wrap my arms gently around his waist and lay my head against his chest. "We're going to get out of this."

It takes several seconds before I feel his arms wrap around me, but once they do, he pulls me tightly against him, nuzzling into my neck as he softly chants my name.

"I'm here." I move back to softly run my fingers down his face.

Anger flashes in his eyes once again. "You shouldn't be."

"You would have done the same for me."

"That's different," he growls. "I'm trained, you're not."

"What was I supposed to do—" Tears fill my eyes, and I pause to tame them. "I couldn't let you die, not when I could save you."

"Oh, Baby," he sighs, drawing me close and maneuvering us over to the bed to sit down, the sound of my distress finally breaking through his. I inhale deeply, allowing his scent to center me. "I can't lose you either. That's why having you here terrifies me. Taking care of myself is one thing, but now…"

Stretching up, I whisper into his ear. "Don't worry, we have a plan. I didn't come here to lose."

A soft smile graces his lips. "Stubborn." He leans over to kiss my cheek. "They're listening. We have to be careful," he warns. I nod my head letting him know that I understand, although the news is not surprising.

Scooting backward, he drags me until we're sitting against the metal frame of the bed, his arms wrapped securely around me. Sitting quietly, his fingers run down my arms, stopping along each bruise or scrap.

"I'm okay."

"Tell me about it," he demands.

His arms tighten when I shiver. "It was chaos. The lights went out and everyone panicked. Five people were killed and lots of others were injured. It was a cruel and senseless act."

"How did you get out?"

"Luck." I made it. That's all he needs to know right now.

"Thank God," he croons, laying his head against mine. "And everyone else?"

"They're fine. We were all lucky."

"Good, good." I can hear the gears in his head turning, contemplating everything.

"How about you? Best we can figure, Riley created this 'distraction' to get to you."

"I don't remember much, I think I was drugged. I started feeling strange, and then the next thing I remember is waking up here."

"And these?" I ask, touching his face and wrists.

"After the fact. Riley's associates didn't take kindly to me refusing their requests to spill CIA secrets."

"How did he find out?"

"I don't know," he gripes. "But based on their questions, I would say it's a fairly new revelation."

The picture of Kate and Edward flash in my head. "Do you think it was Kate?"

"I've considered that, but she's been working for me since the beginning. So why now? It doesn't make sense."

Sitting up taller, I turn to look at him. "Except that she's missing too."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ben looked for her, when we couldn't find you. She was nowhere to be found."

"Shit!" Edward hisses. "I haven't seen her here, but that doesn't mean that she not being held in another room."

"Or that she didn't help," I counter, laying back against his chest.

"I take it that the team doesn't know for sure either," he murmurs into my hair.

"No."

"Wonderful. We can't trust anyone then." His body tightens. "Who knows about this plan?"

"Not many. Besides, the CIA doesn't negotiate, remember."

"So we're rogue." I nod my head, not wanting to say anything else. Although we're talking quietly and hiding our lips, I don't want to take any chances of them overhearing.

The sound of the door unlocking puts Edward on alert, his arms tighten almost painfully. A few seconds later, Riley walks through holding a file followed by two of his guards and Alec. One of the guards drags a chair in front of the bed for Riley to sit on. Turning it backwards, he straddles the seat, leaning across the straight back with a smirk.

"Isn't that sweet. The lovebirds reunited." He pauses and opens the file. "Although, Bella, I don't quite understand how someone so smart can still love him."

Edward's hand twitches against me, but he doesn't react. "I don't know what you're talking about," I answer casually.

Riley glances at me in disbelief. "Well, how about I refresh your memory." He flips through a couple of the pages. "Isabella Swan, daughter of a Seattle Cop, and Edward Cullen, grandson of a ruthless mobster. Your backgrounds alone make this an interesting pairing."

He waits for a response, but neither of us says anything. I focus all my energy on keeping a straight, uninterested face.  _He's going to try to use your emotions against each other. Don't let him._

"Was it five or four years ago that the romance developed?" Again, neither of us responds. "Yes, I believe that is when the tragic tale began."

"Is there a point to this?" Edward asks brusquely.

Riley chuckles darkly. "You know what's funny? The whole reason I set up that party was to figure out what was going on between the two of you. But then the fates of fortune smiled down upon me and the truth fell into my lap exactly when I needed it."

Edward clutches me tighter, his teeth grinding together. I bite my lip to keep from asking where the information came from, wanting desperately to confirm the source of the leak. However, I also don't want to feed into his game.

"Nothing huh?" he asks, testing our silence. "That's fine. I think I can put everything together myself. Don't you think, Alec?"

"Of course, boss. And when he's done, I'd be more than happy to give you a shoulder to cry on, Counselor." Edward's chest rumbles, and I quickly squeeze his hand to calm him.

"I think that I'd rather have Sam," I sneer, although the thought makes me sick.

"Bitch," he hisses, before a scathing look from Riley shuts him up.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, the not so fairytale romance of Edward and Bella." He flips through more papers. "A pair of young lovers meets in the city of San Francisco, the charm of the handsome prince no doubt whisking the fair maiden off her feet."

"How sweet," Alec taunts.

"But then he disappears, hiding the truth about who he was, leaving the poor maiden all alone. Did you really skip town without a word?" he asks, trying to provoke Edward.

I swallow my shock, keeping my face neutral even though his words are startling. There's no way he would know that part without someone telling him, which means the mole has to be someone within our inner circle.

"Talk all you want, Biers. You're not getting anything from me," Edward hisses.

"Bella, that must have hurt. Having the man you love abandon you with no word. How did you survive it?" Riley probes, turning his attention to me.

"I'm stronger than I look. You would be wise to remember that." His words are painful, digging into the internal wounds not fully healed.

"Still, are you sure that you can trust anything that he says? I'm honestly surprised that you were willing to jeopardize your life for the liar. You're definitely a better person than me."

"Leave her alone, Biers."

"And you, Edward. How in the hell could you leave this specimen of a woman?" He gestures towards me dramatically.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Edward declares, his tone deadly.

"Don't I?" Riley responds cockily, focusing on me again. "How can you stand to talk to him, let alone allow him to touch you? Truly I'm fascinated."

"I wouldn't leave her," Alec adds with a wink. "I'm mean I'm a ruthless man, but damn that was a cold move, Edward, especially towards someone so sweet and innocent. Did you get off on breaking her spirit?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Edward roars.

Riley chuckles. "A reaction! Looks like we found a sore spot, Alec."

_He might struggle. Take the lead if that happens._

"I don't break that easily," I growl, ignoring the flashing memories that remind me of how close I was to falling into the abyss.

Riley continues to taunt Edward, ignoring my statement. "Did you really think you that could get her back when you returned? Especially while still living a lie." He leans forward as if preparing to share a secret. "Does she know everything you've done? All of the lives you've ruined?" He suddenly switches his focus back to me. "You think that I'm cold-blooded, Bella? I could show you some pictures of  _his_  work that makes  _me_  look like a saint."

"Jealous?" I question before Edward can respond. I can feel his heart pounding against my back. He needs to get himself back under control. "I mean seriously, what _is_  the point of all of this? You want to prove that you're the better man? You just threw away everything with that little stunt you pulled at the club. And for what? A walk down memory lane? You're the ridiculous one, not Edward."

"Don't comment on things you don't know about, Isabella."

"I think I know enough. Was this the reason for all of your plans? Knowing about the status of our relationship won't change the fact that your world is crumbling."

"You're mistaken," Riley responds nonchalantly, although I can see his fists tightening.

"Is she?" Edward asks, sounding calmer. "This was a desperate move for someone who's got everything under control."

"I actually love your plan," I ridicule. "It's just going to make seeing your empire dismantled all the more sweet."

Riley stands with a lethal glare. "I'm not losing anything, Sweetheart, trust me."

His vague words pull at my consciousness. He's hiding something. Knowing that asking about the meaning of his words won't get me anywhere, I try taunting him instead. "A reaction. Looks like I found a sore spot," I scoff, throwing his words back at him.

Edward chuckles behind me. "I think you're right, Bella. Do you see the vein popping out on his forehead? It's not pretty."

Riley steps forward but stops when his phone rings. "What?" he screams into it. Abruptly, his face morphs into a sinister grin. "Perfect. Bring them in." Turning he motions to Alec, who opens the door. "Well, kids, although I'd love to continue this conversation, a surprise has arrived. Don't worry though, I'll be back soon."

Once Edward and I are alone, my body crumbles. It feels like I just ran an emotional marathon. My head spins, the words Riley spewed still heavy in the air. The mentioned "surprise" is disconcerting, but I'm still thankful for the break. I need a moment to fortify my walls. I have no doubt that he will continue to dig into our relationship when he returns.

"What do you think he's talking about?" I ask, trying to focus on something else besides Riley's poisonous statements. When Edward doesn't respond, I free myself from his grasp to look at him. "Edward?"

He's looking past me at the door, his face stoic. "I don't know."

"Are you okay?" Apparently, I'm not the only one fighting the effects of the conversation. Whether he saw it or not, Riley was, unfortunately, successful at shaking our confidence.

He spits out a humorless laugh. "I'm anything but okay."

"Hey, don't give up now." I want to tell him how this plan is going to work, that I have faith in our friends, but I can't say anything knowing that Riley's people are watching. Suddenly, inspiration strikes. "You know when I get down, I always remind myself to have  _courage_ ," I say pointedly, referencing the message on the bracelet.

His eyes widen slightly. "Courage?" he whispers.

"Courage."

"Courage. That's helps." Unfortunately, instead of the calming effect I was hoping for, the word seems to energize him. Blustering, he gets off the bed and starts pacing. "I'm going to fucking kill him." Looking over at the door, he shouts. "Do you hear me? I'm going to fucking kill you, Biers."

"Edward?"

"I'm sorry. He's just…I just need a moment."

I watch silently as he tries to pace off his anxious energy. I don't know what else to say to make him feel better. Finally, in the middle of one of his passes, he stops and falls into the bed beside me. Leaning on his knees, he bows his head. "I hate that he's right," he whispers.

"Who?"

"Riley. Everything that he said is true. Leaving you was the worst thing I could have possibly done to us. I was stupid to ever believe that it was right."

"He wasn't right about everything," I point out with a small smile. Although Riley's words hurt, I don't want them to determine my future. Edward looks at me curiously. "He said that if I knew the truth, I would hate you. Evidently, he doesn't know everything. You already told me the truth, and I here I am."

"Here you are," he breathes, running his hand through my hair. "I still don't understand why. You have every reason to hate me."

"Honestly, there have been times that I wished I did, where I wanted to make you suffer," I chuckle somberly. "Which just made me angrier. Things would be so much simpler if I could just hate you…but, I can't."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, so softly that I barely hear. "God, I'm so sorry."

"I know."

I look over at him, his head hanging low. I'm tired of the cynical limbo I've been living. Glancing around our depressing prison, I decide that  _when_  we get out of this, things are going to change. It's time to get my life back, which means I need to be honest with myself.

"We're moving forward remember."

Edward looks up at me. "You make it sound easy."

"It's probably anything but easy. I don't think I can forget about what you did, but I'd like to think that I can get past it."

"That's all I dream about."

"Don't get me wrong though, we need to have some conversations outside of this craziness before we decide anything," I declare, well aware that all of our recent talks have been in reaction to some aspect of this situation with Riley and Sam.

"What do you propose, Ms. Swan?"

"I'm a simple girl, remember. Dinner, coffee, or hell even just a phone call would be a start."

"Simple, I think I can remember that."

"You know what scares me the most?" My body starts to shake from the vulnerability of my question.

He wraps his arms around me, whispering against my head. "What?"

"Not knowing whether you will hurt me again. I'm afraid that when things get tough, you'll just run."

"Never," he says gruffly. "I'll never leave you again." Even though his voice is low, I can feel the power behind his words.

He's said similar things before, but for the first time I find myself believing them. "I'll probably need to hear that from time to time."

"I'll tell you every day."

"Okay," I agree. Unexpectedly, the ridiculous circumstances of our conversation hits me and I can't help but laugh.

"What?" Edward asks.

"I'm really stupid. I've avoided having a conversation with you since you returned, yet in my infinite wisdom, I somehow decide that  _this_  is the best time to actually talk."

Edward looks around and starts laughing too. "Yeah, our timing pretty much sucks." He leans in closer. "But on the bright side, I'm sure not knowing what we're laughing about is probably driving Riley crazy."

His observation makes me laugh harder. "Fuck you, Riley," I yell, throwing up both middle fingers. "You can take my freedom, but you can't take my laughter."

"I think you just massacred one of the best movie quotes of all time," Edward pants between his laughter. "God, I love you."

His honest and heartfelt words immobilize my laughter. "I…I…I'm glad," I stammer, unable to say the words lingering on the tip of my tongue.

Edward appraises me closely, analyzing every inch of my face. "Good," he whispers, leaning forward to give me a quick kiss. "That makes  _me_  glad too."

The room falls into silence once again, allowing both of us the chance to rein in our emotions. "We're going to get out of here and then we're going to finish this conversation," Edward announces, sincerity shining in his eyes.

"I believe you."

Maneuvering, he pulls us back into our previous position against the headboard. Feeling comfortable, I can't help but yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before and long drive finally catching up to me. "Rest," Edward whispers, kissing my head. "I doubt Riley will be back for a while. He probably wants us to stew a bit."

"No, I'm awake," I lie, my body slowly melting into his.

* * *

"Bella! Bella, wake up," Edward hisses, shaking me as my mind registers the sound of the door clanging open.

Jumping up, I rub my eyes, the sudden adrenaline helping to push away any drowsiness left behind from my impromptu nap. Riley walks in smiling, sitting down in the chair he abandoned earlier.

"Did you have a nice nap?" he smirks.

"Lovely," I snap in return.

"What do you want, Biers?" Edward requests bluntly.

"Is it time to deal?" I ask, jumping in.

"Deal?" Edward looks towards me in confusion.

"Bella didn't tell you? She's here to make a trade. You for Sam."

"Wha—"

I quickly cut Edward off. "I think you've stalled long enough."

"Actually, I don't need to deal anymore. I think I can get everything I want without any compromises."

"What are you talking about?" Edward scoots forward until he's sitting on the edge of the bed in front of Riley. I quickly follow, mimicking his movements.

"I think I'd rather show you than explain." He motions towards the door. Almost immediately, it opens.

My eyes narrow as Kate's perfectly clad form walks into the room. I've hated her since I watched her snake her arm through Edward's at the museum. Now I despise her.

"Kate?" Edward jumps up. "Why?"

For a moment, I see a glimmer of guilt drift over her face, but just as quickly, it disappears. "You never appreciated me, Edward."

Riley's smile widens, soaking up the scene. "A lesson you should never forget, Cullen. Never piss off the person who has access to your life. A woman's scorn is nothing to trifle with."

"What did you do?" Edward takes a step towards Kate but stops when she cowers behind one of the guards.

"I think I mentioned earlier that the fortunes of fate shined down on me, well meet my fortune." Riley gestures. "I had just sent out the invitations to my party when Kate contacted me with some interesting information."

"How did you find out?" Edward throws his hands on his hips.

"That you work for the CIA?" Kate taunts, peeking around the guard.

"Yeah."

"I started searching through your documents. I found some notes on some deals that didn't make sense, so I searched further and found the notes from Bella." She spits out my name.

"Notes?" I ask.

"Fuck," Edward hisses. "You had to break into the safe for those."

"I pay attention."

"I don't get it. Why now?"

"Because of her!" she screeches pointing at me.

"Woman's scorn," Riley laughs.

"What about her?" Edward stands in front of me, blocking Kate's deadly glare.

"I did everything you ever asked, and never once did you notice me. I thought maybe you just weren't ready because you were too focused on running Global, but then we came here." She pauses, spearing me with her hate. "I could tell right away that she was different, and then you started losing your focus. Running off and making bad business deals. I had to know why she was so special."

"What notes?" I ask again.

"The notes you left for me when I was finishing the police academy," Edward answers, never taking his eyes off Kate.

It takes a moment to remember. They weren't anything special, just little messages to remind him that I loved and believed in him. I can't believe that he kept them all these years.

"It didn't make sense that you would complete a police academy right before you took over Global. So I paid some people to dig further."

"There's nothing to find," Edward insists.

"Oh, but there was," Riley jumps in. "Kate just figured out the right person to ask."

Edward narrows his eyes. " _Person_?"

"Your mother says hello," Kate chirps.

"My mother?" Edward's nostrils flare as he steps forward. "You bitch!"

"Don't worry, she didn't say much. Not that she could, her mind is pretty much fried. However, when I asked about you graduating from the academy, she corrected me and said that the CIA never hired you. It didn't take a genius to put the timing of everything together."

"I'm impressed that you were able to put anything together," I hiss. It sounds like she, unfortunately, made a lucky guess.

She narrows her eyes. "Don't be fooled, he couldn't run Global without me!"

"When?" Edward asks abruptly.

"When what?" Kate bites back.

"When did you see my mother?"

"I went to visit her while you were off doing God knows what, probably with  _her_!" She must be talking about our time in Seattle.

"You can imagine my interest when Edward Cullen's assistant informed me that he works for the CIA," Riley comments, ignoring Kate's outburst.

"And you just believed her?" I question.

"Of course not, but I have connections that she doesn't. Once I knew where to look, it was just a matter of time before I found the right source."

"What source?" Edward growls.

Riley makes his way over to the door. "I know a guy who keeps tabs on law enforcement. It's amazing how many feds, cops, and agents have secrets that they would rather keep under wraps. Drug habits, prostitution, you name it. My favorite, however, is gambling, especially when it leads to debts. It's the type of leverage that makes me smile." He bangs on the door and moves the side.

The door opens again, my stomach turning to ice when Angela walks through it.

"Angela?" Edward asks his face suddenly pale.

"I don't understand?" I choke.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. Her face is red and splotchy, her eyes bloodshot. She's been crying, a lot. "I'm so sorry I didn't want to, I swear, but I had no choice."

" _No choice_ ," Edward explodes. "Explain to me how you have no choice!"

"They have my mother," she screams. "They have my mother." The air in her lungs runs out as she repeats the horrifying words. "I didn't know what else to do. I owe money…then Riley got involved. What was I supposed to do?"

I stare at her shocked. I don't know what to say. I've only met her a couple of times, but each time she was the picture of poise and composure. That is not the Angela standing before me today. This Angela is falling apart.

"You helped to plan this," Edward hisses, trying to come to terms with the betrayal before us.

"Yes." Shame highlights her quiet words as she lowers her head.

"But how? You couldn't have had but a day." I blurt out trying to make sense of everything.

"Actually a little over a day in a half," Riley answers with a wide grin. "Impressive, isn't it."

"Wait," I yell, reeling from a sudden revelation. "You know about Sam?"

"Did I ever tell you that I took acting classes off the West End when I lived in London? Man it was fun messing with you at the club."

Ignoring his taunting statement, I focus on Angela instead. "How could you?"

"With the right pressure, Ms. Weber was gracious enough to share his location."

"You son of a bitch!" I scream. "You killed all of those people for nothing?" I feel sick.

Angela bursts into tears. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't for nothing, Bella. It was still the easiest way to grab, Edward."

Rage overtakes me, and I find myself rushing towards him determined to smack that fucking smirk off his face. However, before I can get far, Edward grabs me and pulls me back against his chest.

"Not now," he whispers into my ear.

Riley clicks his tongue. "Temper, temper. You should really learn to control yourself, especially considering that I've brought you another surprise." He once again moves to the door and bangs.

I'm getting tired of this disturbing version of Let's Make a Deal. I don't think I want to know what's behind door number three. Twisting my bracelet, I pray that some part of our plan is still intact, knowing that Ben, Rose, and Emmett will do anything in their power to get us out of here. By now, they have to know about Angela's betrayal.

The door starts to open and I try to prepare for the possibilities of who's behind it, my worse fear being that it's one of my friends. My stomach twists as I watch our new guest walk in the room.

I was wrong about my worst fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, but in fairness I promise that this is the last cliffhanger in this story. Up next, who's behind door number three and will they get out of mess? Stay tuned next week.


	24. Chapter 22: If It Kills Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the reviews and notifications!
> 
> LostInPA did overtime for this chapter, I appreciate her time and support more than I can say. I don't know what I would do without her.
> 
> Alright, on with the show. :)

Chapter Twenty-Two: If It Kills Me

_"The edge. There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."_

_Hunter S. Thompson_

* * *

The door starts to open and I prepare for the possibilities of who's behind it, my worse fear being that it's one of my friends. My stomach twists as I watch our new guest walk in the room. I was wrong about my worst fear.

"Hi, Bella," Sam smirks still wearing the prison jumpsuit I saw him in several days ago. "Did you miss me?"

Edward tightens his grasp, pulling me protectively into the shelter of his frame. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Surprise." Riley grins with delight, enjoying the reactions caused by his newest stunt.

My brain scrambles to catch up to the horrifying sight before me. He was in a locked facility. There's no way he should be standing here. I'm must be trapped in a nightmare; it's the only logical explanation.

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

Kate, still hiding behind one of the guards, glares at Edward, seemingly pissed that he's ignoring her and embracing me. "Fuck all of you," she comments, puffing out her chest and stomping out of the room.

Riley motions to one of the guards to follow her, the door closing quickly behind them. I bite my tongue from yelling out a sarcastic comment, glad to see at least one of the cast of characters leaving. Sam, however, continues to focus his attention on me. His dark eyes roam up and down my body, his fists flexing and retracting as if he's trying to stop himself from touching me. The thought makes my skin crawl. Sensing my discomfort, Edward tightens his grip, his presence once again grounding me.

Sam's eyes narrow, focusing on Edward's hands. "Feeling threatened, Cullen?"

"Hardly. I'm just trying to figure out why Riley would want an unraveling psychopath anywhere near him, especially now."

"Fuck you! You don't know anything about me!" Sam lurches forward, but doesn't get far before one of the guards stops him.

"I know enough." Edward's voice is chillingly smooth. "Come on, Riley. I expected better than this. With all the heat on you, it's kind of an amateur move to bring in such a loose cannon."

"Oh, I don't know." Riley retorts, glancing at a snarling Sam. "He's not that bad."

"Really?" Edward scoffs. "Let's talk about Seattle. Are you saying you ordered that?"

"The events of Seattle were an unfortunate mistake." Riley dismisses the accusation easily as if the lives lost didn't matter. As if, my dad didn't matter.

"Mistake?" I hiss. "He killed my father!" Edward rubs my arm in an effort to keep me calm.

Riley graces me with an insincere sympathetic look. "And he should pay for that—"

Sam whirls on Riley. "What? That wasn't the deal."

"Let me finish, please." Riley flexes his neck but remains eerily calm. "As I was saying, Bella, he should pay for his sins  _but only_  if Edward is willing to deal."

"That's not what she told me," Sam roars, pointing to Angela. "I'm here for Bella. That's it!"

His admission shouldn't shock me, but it does. Snapping my head to the side, I glare at Angela. "You brought him here?"

"I had to," she answers meekly.

"How in the hell did you pull that off?" Edward demands astounded. "He was in a secure location."

"I forged a prisoner transfer and told Jake that as a precaution, we were given orders to move him just in case the mission failed."

"And he bought it?" Edward shouts.

"Why wouldn't he?" Angela screeches. "I've been the lead agent on his case since we captured him."

Riley stands back and watches the scene with pleasure, enjoying the tumultuous reactions. The desire to wipe that disgusting smirk off his face is overwhelming. However, I hold back, convincing myself that it's not the right moment.

"What about the facility? Wouldn't they call to verify?" I ask.

Angela shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "I've been in charge of his transfers since he arrived. There was no need to question it. And since new locations are confidential, there was nothing to confirm."

"Fuck," Edward laments. "Where's Jake? Is he in on this too?"

Angela looks down, her hands twisting around until her fingers are red. "No," she whispers. "I made sure to drive so that I could give him a tranquilizer once we were a safe distance away. After I was sure he was out, I contacted Riley. We left Jake in the van."

"Jesus Christ!" Edward explodes, shifting me until he's standing in front. "I can't believe I ever trusted you."

"Hey! At least he's still alive!" she screams.

"That you know of," I point out cryptically. "Riley's men probably went back and killed him."

Angela faces Riley, her body shaking. "You didn't?"

He shrugs his shoulders with a smile, but doesn't answer. It's hard to know if he really did do something or if it's just for effect. Either way, the silence causes Angela to crumble to the floor.

"Oh God, Oh God. What have I done?"

"Are we done with all this chit chat?" Sam inquires. "I want to get back to this  _deal_. I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, Biers, but I don't plan to stick around here long. I'm just here for Bella. That's it. So let's get on with it."

"I'm not some fucking piece of property. You won't ever  _have_ me!"

Sam tilts his head to the side to glance up and down my body with an insidious grin. "We'll see."

"The hell you will," Edward growls, pushing me further behind him.

"You'd rather her stay locked up here? With him?" Sam challenges, pointing at Riley. "There's an act of love if I ever heard one."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" My anger for him burns beyond anything else I'd ever felt, his ignorant audacity continuing to astound me.

"Now, now," Riley chastises. "We're all businessmen. Let's negotiate like civil individuals."

"Negotiate?" Edward probes cautiously.

"Men?" I remark, scoffing at my obvious exclusion.

Riley's now familiar sickening leer returns when he turns his attention towards me. "Surely you can see that you're the prize, my dear. The question is who's willing to give up more to keep you."

"Are you insane?" I yell, pushing back my increasing panic.

"No." Riley looks around the room thoughtfully. "I think that there are lots of things people would be willing to bargain for in this room. I mean look at poor Sam, desperate for his freedom  _and_  you. Angela, the pathetic mess she is, desperately wants her mother." As he speaks, he methodically moves around the room focusing on each person before finally standing in front of Edward and I. "And then there are our two love birds. I'm sure there are lots of things that either one of you would negotiate to keep the other safe."

"Get to the point, Biers," Sam growls, angered by his description of Edward and me.

"My point _is_  we all want something. The question is who will succeed in getting it." Snapping his fingers, one of the guards drags a chair over to the middle of the room. Sitting as if he is holding court, he pulls on his chin, purposely drawing out the tension. "I just wonder who's going to break first."

"Fuck you!" Edward spits. "I'm not negotiating shit."

"Strong words for someone in your predicament. Are you really willing to risk Bella with that position?"

Edward takes a step forward, but I hold onto his arm, taking my turn to calm him. The only way we are getting out of this is by outwitting our rivals. We can't do that by riding high on our emotions.

"Why don't you two take a seat," Riley demands.

When neither of us moves, Alec steps forward, gun in hand. "He said, take a seat."

Evaluating the options, Edward slowly moves us backward until my legs hit the bed. Slowly, we sit, Edward's arm wrapping around my shoulder. My hand plays with my bracelet, praying that Ben is still on his way, especially since this situation is looking bleaker by the second.

I notice Angela staring at my bracelet too, catching my eye, she signals me to look down. Glancing at her hands, I watch them flare outward twice. My eyes widen slightly, hoping that I'm reading the signal correctly. Her head nods ever so slightly, confirming that she didn't sell us out completely. If her fingers are indeed representing time, we have approximately twenty minutes until help arrives.

"Where's my mother?" Angela asks, trying to regain her composure. "I did everything you wanted."

"Yes, you did, but I'm not ready to deal with you yet." Riley quickly dismisses her, instead focusing his attention between Sam and Edward.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Alec making himself comfortable on the bathroom counter, the gun resting in his hand. No matter what their plan is to get us out, it's not going to be an easy battle. We need to get the upper hand if we'll have any chance.

"Come on, we're wasting time here. What are you proposing?" Sam barks. His growing instability makes me nervous. An edgy Sam is an impulsive Sam, which could be bad for everyone.

"Yes, what  _are_  you proposing," Edward sneers, repeating Sam's question.

"As you know, I need a new venture. In fact, I'm feeling the need to reinvent myself."

"A butterfly," I mumble, realizing that in his own twisted way, Riley actually believes that he can start fresh. That by shedding the symbolic cocoon of his old life and becoming something new, he can leave his mess behind without any repercussions. "It's not that simple, Riley. No one can ever really start fresh."

Riley evaluates me carefully, his head tilting with a smile. "Of course they can, Ms. Swan. All one needs is the right resources." His attention shifts to Edward. "I want Global."

Edward laughs. "Is that why you brought us here? To take Global? You're as crazy as you look."

"Am I?" he ridicules. " _Kate!_ " On cue, the door opens and Kate rushes back in with a file and a pen. Delivering them to Riley, she glances at Edward, a fleeting look of guilt marring her face. She opens her mouth but shuts it quickly before marching out of the room with her head down.

"What the fuck does Global have to do with me?" Sam questions, his frustration escalating.

"Patience, Agent Uley. All will be revealed soon enough." He pulls out a file of what looks to be legal papers. "I took the initiative of having these drafted."

"To do what?" Edward queries.

"Turn Global over to an anonymous buyer. Once you sign, you'll lose all control over anything that has to do with your Grandfather's company."

"And if I don't," Edward challenges, through his clenched jaw.

"I hand Bella over to Sam."

"What?" Sam and I both yell.

"That wasn't the deal, Biers." Sam attempts to rush Riley again, only to have the guard push him back harder.

Riley ignores his outburst. "I want control of Global, Cullen. So what's it going to be, your grandfather's company, or Bella?"

"I want Bella, and I want her now," Sam interrupts, still trying to push past the guard to get at Riley.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, Riley motions to the guard with his hand, his focus on Edward unwavering. On command, the guard pushes Sam until he's up against the wall. "If you want any chance of getting out of here, Sam, I suggest you shut up."

"I didn't come here to play games. Give me Bella."

Riley turns and signals the guard again. Instantaneously, he punches Sam in the face and then grabs his head, smashing him into the floor. Once he's lying prone, the burly guard stomps his foot into Sam's back, holding it there to keep him down.

"Now be a good boy and stay put, while I finish my negotiations," Riley states calmly.

Sam spits out a mouthful of blood, continuing to struggle regardless of the pressure on his spine. "Fuck you!" With another quick stomp, he finally settles, realizing that resisting at this point is useless.

"What will taking Global do? You can't run it, not with the heat you'll have on you, especially after this little escapade," I scoff, pointing out Riley's flawed logic.

"My dear Bella, don't try to understand things you know nothing about. I don't need to be visual to run Global. Isn't that right, Edward?"

"Unfortunately, he's correct," Edward answers quietly. "Global has a large and complicated underground. It's part of the reason their illegal activity was always so difficult to track."

"But the CIA will still be watching Global's every move. Not to mention that you know all of its secrets. Riley won't be able to hide forever." I argue, still having trouble seeing the logic behind the request.

"Unless they don't know." Edward shakes his head as if having an epiphany. "Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Keeping the trade a secret is part of the deal, and your life will be the cost if I renege. Does that about sum it up, Riley?"

My heart drops, realizing that we're right back to where we were three years ago, the only difference is that this time I know about the threat to my life. The realization burns in my veins, I'm tired of people manipulating my life and stealing my happiness. This has to end.

Glancing down at my watch, I'm relieved to see that I only need to stall for ten more minutes. "That still doesn't make sense." I maintain angrily. "I mean look at how many people are in this room, Riley. Do you really think that  _all_ of us are going to stay quiet, you arrogant prick?"

"Bella," Edward warns.

"You bring up an excellent point," Riley acknowledges, leaning back in his chair. "But power is a funny thing. It's amazing the type of allegiance it can create."

"Not from me," I argue.

Giving me a knowing smile, Riley turns his attention to Angela. "Ms. Weber, I need guaranteed passage out of the country."

"I-I c-can't do that," she stammers.

"Of course you can," he declares, gesturing at Alec. Immediately, he walks over and hands Riley a picture. "Your mother is a beautiful woman, Angela. She has faith that you will get her out of this." He turns the picture around for her to see. I can't see it, but by the look on Angela's face, it can't be good.

"I have some contacts," she whispers. "They can get you out and keep you off the grid."

"You see, Bella. Power is a wonderful thing," Riley gloats, turning back to me.

"Go to hell!" I'm tired of his twisted game.

"There's that temper again. You sure you want to deal with that for the rest of your life, Cullen?" Riley taunts, loving his assumed upper hand. "I don't know, Bella. Maybe's he's reconsidering. He hasn't confirmed whether or not he's willing to trade."

My eyes flick down to my watch, only a few more minutes. My body tingles with anticipation praying that they make it in time.

"Of course I'm willing to deal," Edward growls. "I don't give a shit about Global. It's all yours for all I care."

"Wonderful." Riley claps his hands in celebration.

"I'm not done," Edward clarifies his tone sharp. "I'll hand it over, but I want a guarantee that Bella will be safe."

"Maybe you didn't hear me earlier when I said that you're in no position to make demands."

"Don't be so sure about that, Biers," Edward goads menacingly. "You don't want to underestimate my power either."

Alec snorts from his spot on the counter, like Riley, not showing any concern for Edward's threats. "Just sign the papers, man, so we can end this charade and get out of here."

"Good advice." Riley stands up and stalks towards us. "Sign the papers," he demands, holding out the file and pen for Edward.

Edward glares at the documents. "I'm not signing until—"

Suddenly, the door slams open and another guard rushes in. "Boss, we've got a problem."

"What?"

"Several vehicles are closing in. They look official."

"Power. It's a wonderful thing," I mock.

"Shut up!" Riley yells. "Alec, stay with these two and keep them out of trouble." Pointing at the guard holding Sam, he continues his pressured demands. "Take that one to the computer room. I don't trust him alone with Bella."

"Yes, Sir." The man hauls Sam easily off the ground and drags him out of the room much to his displeasure.

Moving towards the door as well, Riley suddenly stops and bends down to grab Angela's hair. "You're coming with me." Yanking until she's standing, he pulls her out of the room. "I'll be back," he threatens, the door slamming shut behind him.

Alec jumps off the counter. "You," he barks, pointing the gun at Edward. "Move the chair over to the corner and get comfortable. I don't trust the two of you together." When Edward refuses to move, Alec arms the gun and points it at me. "I said move."

Slowly unwrapping his arm, Edward leans over to kiss the side of my head before standing to grab the chair and moving it into the corner. Edward stares at Alec, his eyes cold and voice deadly. "I'm going to enjoy taking you down." Alec remains silent, unfazed by the threat.

The three of us fall into an awkward silence, waiting and watching for either our salvation or death. Finally, the sound of several vehicles resonates through the concrete enforced wall. I turn and look at Edward with a bright smile, ecstatic that help has finally arrived.

"You really think it's going to be that easy, Counselor? Riley has an arsenal hidden within these walls with plenty of men. Your friends aren't going to know what hit them."

Edward's squirms in the chair, his face contemplative as he leans forward. I can tell that he's worried about being stuck in here. Glancing around the room, I try to identify our options of escape, but unfortunately, the lone door attached to the computer room, appears to be the only way out.

Muffled voices filter through the outside wall, but I can't make out the words. The lack of sight and sound is nerve-wracking, especially considering that we will need to be ready when the time comes to run.

When Alec walks closer to the wall, I take the opportunity to get Edward's attention, mouthing the word. "Plan?"

"Not yet," he hisses, dragging his hand along the back of his neck.

Out of nowhere, a loud explosion shakes the room causing the walls to creak and lights to flicker. It's hard to tell which direction it came from, or who took the hit. Alec paces the room anxiously, pulling out his phone and checking the screen repeatedly, maybe waiting for instructions on what to do next. The popping of gunfire resonates outside, sounding like an all-out war. Edward looks at me uneasily, the noises getting to all of us. When another explosion rocks the building, Alec's eyes take on a cold focus.

"Fuck this," he snaps, taking out his gun. "Riley will thank me for this later."

As soon as he points the gun in my direction, a loud banging rattles the connecting door adding to the already chaotic noise. "Don't fucking do it," Sam screams, followed by the guard telling him to shut-up.

My heart pounds wildly, my eyes focused on the barrel of the gun. "You don't have to do this, Alec," I rationalize. "You don't need to kill us. Just go."

He snorts out a laugh. "Sweetheart, you have me confused with your admirers. I don't care about what happens to you." Then without pause, he pulls the trigger.

Instead of the experiencing the anticipated pain from a bullet, I suddenly find myself knocked to the floor as a blur of motion jumps in front of me. By the time I stand, Edward is rushing Alec, the gun flying to the side as they fall to the floor, fists flying.

Running over, I grab the gun, watching the brawl. They are too close to get a clear shot, and before I can do anything to help, Alec is able to gain the upper hand. Rolling them over, he straddles Edward, pummeling him mercilessly.

Terrified, I watch as Edward loses stamina, his arms no longer punching back. After one more thunderous smack, Alec jumps up and wildly searches for the gun. Turning, his eyes widen when he spots it in my hands. Unsteadily, I lift the gun and widen my stance.

"Let's not be hasty, Bella. Hand me the gun."

Without hesitation, I squeeze the trigger, my body stumbling backward with the recoil of the gun. Alec falls against the wall, his eyes shocked and confused. Looking down, he and I both watch as blood spreads across his chest. Prepared for him to attack again, I try to hold my quaking arms steady as he slowly slides down.

"You bitch," he gurgles, red seeping from his lips. His hand tries to push against the wound, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Edward?" I call out, not taking my eyes off Alec.

"Watch him, baby." The weak tenor in Edward's voice is frightening. Although I desperately want to check on him, I force myself to stand still, knowing that I can't turn my back until Alec is no longer a threat.

"I am," I mutter, an indescribable numbness washing over me, allowing me to watch the gruesome scene from a distance. I don't have time to deal with my wavering emotions. I have to focus.

Alec tries to stand again, but flops to the floor quickly, his body losing strength. Finally, he stops moving as his eyes lose focus and close, his hand falling loosely to the side. Taking several steps forward, with the gun still aimed, I kick his foot.

Once.

Twice.

Nothing.

Only then do I feel confident enough to turn my back. "Edward," I yell, tucking the gun into my jeans. Whirling around, I stop short. " _No_." I can't catch my breath. "No, no, no." Edward is lying there lifeless, his white shirt turning crimson.

Rushing forward, I fall and slide on my knees. "Edward." With trembling fingers, I find his pulse point, breathing again only when I feel the faint beat. "Oh thank God." Reaching behind me, I pull off the flimsy comforter and grab the top sheet from the cot. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"Bella?"

"I'm here." I carefully move his shirt up to assess his wounds. I don't have to go far to find the circular source of the bleeding. Quickly, I take part of the sheet and put pressure on it. "You're shot."

"It was either me or you, and it damn sure wasn't going to be you," he whispers, followed by a rumbling cough.

"My hero," I joke, trying to keep things light. He has to be okay.

Taking the sheet, I thread it under his torso, painstakingly wrapping it around the wound, pulling it as tight as I can to make sure there is enough pressure to slow the blood flow. Edward hisses and moans as he moves and I tighten. I can tell by his eyes that he's worried…scared. This is bad.

"You need help. We've got to get out of here." The words fall frantically from my lips as I scan the room for a way out. Focusing on Alec, a plan starts to form. "Keys." Crawling over, I bump his foot again.

"What are you doing?" Edward asks, his words strangled and weak.

"He has the keys." I crawl around to his left side, remembering which pocket he put them in earlier.

"Jesus," Edward moans. "Be careful."

The air is heavy with the smell of sweat and blood. Trying desperately not to gag, I swallow back the acid filling my stomach. Inching my hand forward, I focus on Alec's face, looking for signs that he's awake, my heart jumping each time I think I see something.

Finally, my fingers brush against the rough denim of his jeans. Reaching into his pocket, Alec remains unmoving as my fingers grasp the key chain, the metal warm from his body heat. Once my finger wraps around the ring, I yank it out and scramble backward, stuffing them into my own pocket. Panting, I make my way back to Edward to check the sheet. Although I see red seeping through, I think the flow is less than before.

"Now what?"

"We get out of here," I repeat.

"How?" Edward asks. "The door's locked from the outside. We have to wait for the cavalry." He coughs again, the rumble worse than before.

"We can't wait."

"Bella…don't be stupid, please."

My mind replays everything I noted when I first arrived. Suddenly, I remember that I didn't take the keys out of the SUV. If they are still there, I might have a chance of getting us out of here. I can still hear gunfire erupting outside, but I don't have time to consider what we might be walking into. Edward won't last much longer if we stay, so it's worth the risk. Now, I just need to figure out how to get us out of this room.

Desperately searching our limited space, I spot a pocket knife clipped to Alec's hip. With the gun heavy against my back, I try to locate the cameras, my brain calculating the risks and scenarios of my developing plan. I haven't heard anything from Sam in a while, I can only hope that he's still watching. He might be our only shot of getting out of here sooner rather than later.

"I'm going to look for a phone," I say purposely, giving me an excuse to go back over to Alec.

Angling over his body in an effort to hide my hands from the cameras above, I slip the knife off his belt and stuff it up the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Once it's secure, I push Alec over, trying not to slip in the blood around him. Grabbing the phone from his back pocket, I slip it into my own for show.

"Okay, okay," I mutter. I can do this. I have to do this. Taking a deep breath, I pray that Sam's unraveling obsession will overpower his rationale.

Standing up, I walk quickly towards the door. "Lay still," I whisper harshly to Edward.

"Shouldn't be a problem." His face grimacing as he clutches the sheet. The pain must be excruciating. "Be careful."

"Sam!" I yell, banging against the door. "Sam, let me out!"

"Bella?"

"I said sit down," The guard bellows. I need to give Sam enough incentive to take him down.

"I'm here. Please, Sam, let me out."

"Why? To save Edward? I don't think so. Let him die first."

"Get the fuck back!" The guard shouts.

My eyes dance wildly as I wrack my brain for the perfect response. I have to get this to work. "I can't wait, Sam. I  _need_  you."

Frustratingly, the declaration evokes nothing but silence.

"Please, Sam. You're the  _only_  one that can help me."

The room is quiet until the door shakes with a loud bang. A painful grunt drifts through followed by several other jarring thuds and muffled cries. Just when I think all is lost, Sam's winded voice finally returns.

"You need me?" he asks, disbelief coloring his muffled words.

"Yes. I didn't understand before, but I do now. You're the only one who can save me. I should have seen it sooner, I'm sorry."

"And Edward?"

"He means nothing to me."

"You were just trying to save him!"

"But I don't have feelings for him. I just want you."

"Me?"

"Yes, I  _want_ you. Please get me out of here." Nervously tapping my fingers against the door, agonizing seconds pass by waiting for his response. If this doesn't work, I don't know what I'm going to do.

"Throw the gun across the room."

"Okay," I agree, ecstatic that he's taking the bait. Taking the gun out of my jeans, I hold it up and toss it into the corner by the bed. "Are you going to let me out now?" Hunching over to hide from the cameras, I carefully pull the knife out from my sleeve and open it. Once the blade is exposed, I shove it back up and out of sight.

"Bella?" Edward asks confused.

"I did what I could to help you, Edward. The cops will be here soon enough," I remark coldly, catering to the audience behind the door. "Come on, Sam, I want to leave."

Finally, I hear the monumental sound of shifting locks, my heart pounding with anticipation.  _Stay focused_. Moving the arm with the hidden knife slightly behind my back, I wait nervously for the door to open.

The knob twists, but Sam doesn't open the door all the way, only allowing me to see a tiny crack into freedom. He assesses my face, searching for the truth. His eyes are wild, alive with a desperate insanity. "If I let you out, you have to listen to what I say. It's a war out there."

"Of course. Whatever you want," I promise, throwing him my best sincere smile.

His eye twitches, but finally, he opens the door allowing me through. I fight the urge to check on Edward, but I can't give anything away. Sam backs up as I walk into the room, but doesn't give me much space. Looking past him, I see the guard bloodied and unconscious on the floor. Sam worked him over good. The rest of the room is vacant; the men who were monitoring the computer screens must have left with Riley.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking over my blood-smeared clothes.

"It's not mine."

A look of wonder suddenly brightens his face. "You killed, Alec."

"I had to."

"But you killed someone," he clarifies, grasping my shoulders. "You understand now."

The bile rises in my throat, hearing him equate his actions to mine. "I had no choice."

"Exactly."

For a moment, I'm frozen, unsure of whether I can really go through my plan. Lost in indecision, Sam catches me off guard when he draws me into a tight embrace. Just when I start to lose faith in my ability to follow through, my father's smiling face flashes in my mind, followed by the crime scene photo of his lifeless body and Edward lying on the floor in the other room. Heated anger abruptly pushes away my reluctance, reminding me of exactly what he took and what I will lose if I don't gather my courage.

_I'm not like him. This is different._

Carefully, I move my arms around his neck. Reaching across, I take my hand and slowly pull the knife out of my sleeve. Once it's free, I hold him closer, pulling his head down into my shoulder. Dropping my hand, I maneuver my arm, positioning the knife at his side. Holding my breath, I pull back and prepare to slam the knife into him.

Before I can execute the move, he whirls around and slams me into the adjacent wall. "Do you really think I'm that stupid," he snarls, pinning me by my shoulders.

His arm moves across my chest, suffocating me as he pushes up against my throat and chin. His other hand grabs the hand still grasping the now worthless knife. "Sam," I sputter.

" _Shut up_!" Smashing my hand against the wall, the knife slips and falls to the floor, bouncing a couple of times as it hits the carpet.

" _Bella_!" Edward yells from the other room. The garbled sound of his voice scares me. I can't let Sam win. I have to help Edward.

"It's too late, Cullen." Sam leans in, his sickening breath hot against my cheek. "I'm finally going to do what I've been dreaming about since we first met."

His lips crash into mine. Scabs from his dry and cracked lips scrape along mine as he roughly tries to gain entry into my mouth. Luckily, he's distracted enough by the kiss that he doesn't react when my leg moves between his. With one quick jab upwards, Sam crumbles to the floor.

Rushing past him, I run to grab the knife, but fall when Sam grabs my leg. Crawling forward against his backward pull, I claw at the carpet, my fingers straining to get the blade. Just as I brush the cool steel, Sam yanks me hard, pulling me towards him, flipping me onto my back, and pinning me to the floor.

"Why do you always run away from me?"

"Because you're a fucking psychopath who killed my father, you sick son of a bitch!" I spit into his face, struggling to get out from under him.

When I fail to get an advantage, I use my fingers to dig into his shoulder, hoping to re-open the gunshot wound he received in Seattle. Hitting a sensitive spot, Sam releases a primal scream and grabs me around the throat. Blackness tinges the edges of my vision as I struggle to breathe, clawing at his hands to no avail. Just as hopelessness sets in, a loud shot distracts him from his grip allowing me to inhale painful breaths of oxygen into my depleted lungs.

"Get away from her." Edward's deadly voice reverberates off the walls.

Sam glances over his shoulder while I strain my neck to see around him. Edward is leaning against the doorframe with the sheet still wrapped around his bloody stomach. He's gripping Alec's forsaken gun, pointing it directly at Sam's head.

Sam burst into laughter. "You don't threaten me, Cullen. Look at you. You can barely stand."

"Maybe, but I can still shoot." Without faltering, he pulls the trigger. My hands automatically cover my head as Sam falls lifeless beside me, blood trickling from the precisely aimed bullet hole in his forehead.

"Shit," I breathe, convinced that this can't be real. Lost in a fog, it's not until I hear Edward's body falling to the floor that I snap out of it. Scrambling, I make my way over to his now slumped body. "Edward!"

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching out to cup my chin.

"Am I okay? What the hell were you thinking?" My hand flutters around his wound, checking the tightness of the makeshift bandage. Grabbing the gun from his hand, I tuck it back into my jeans.

"I was thinking that I was saving your life. Where's your gratitude," he jokes, his breath ragged.

Stopping my movements, I smile sadly. "Thank you." Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his. "You shouldn't take those kind of chances."

"I would do anything for you." His eyes are tired, but the intensity still sends shivers down my spine.

"I know, and that means a lot to me."

"I've never stopped loving you," he whispers.

"No!" I yell, sensing the reason behind his sudden declaration.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Shut up!" I desperately try to pull us up, my blood covered hands losing their grip around his body. "We  _are not_  saying goodbye! Not yet."

"I'm not going to make it," he whispers.

"Come on!" I scream, trying desperately to move him. "I'm going to get us out of here, damn it! I'm going to save you."

"Bella," Edward places his hand against my cheek. "No matter how crazy or confusing things were these last few years,  _you_  have always been my touchstone." Taking his hand off my face, he places it on his shoulder, covering his tattoo. "Don't you see? You've already saved me. Every day."

"Edward—"

"Save yourself. You don't owe me anything. I just want you to be happy." He pauses, taking a shuddering breath. "It's time to move forward."

"No." Closing my eyes, I lean forward until my head rests against him. An uncontrollable shaking overtakes my body, the power of my sorrow breaking through the numbness. "I can't."

"I love you," he whispers, falling into unconsciousness.

Even through the blood and dirt, somehow, his grounding scent remains, the smell flooding my brain with memories.

* * *

_"I take it you're not a pro softball player?" A quiet, yet sarcastic voice asks from behind me._

_..._

_"_ _Edward. Edward Cullen," he says, reaching out his hand. "You've called me an unfavorable name twice now. I figure you should at least know my real one. And you are?"_

_..._

_"Will you play for me one day?" I request, leaning down trying to catch his eye. He looks up smiling brightly. "If you play your cards right, maybe," he answers flirtatiously._

_..._

_Reaching out, I try to push his head under, but he skillfully thwarts my move by grabbing me and pulling me in. "Careful now. We don't want to drown," he warns huskily, our noses close enough to touch._

_..._

_"He's right you know. I'd be stupid to ever let you go." "Then don't," I murmur, snuggling into his side, watching as the movie brightens the night sky around us._

_..._

_"_ _I intend to impress the hell out of your dad." Leaning down, he presses his mouth against mine. "It's kind of important to my future plans that he approves of me."_

_..._

_Edward's eyes search mine while his hand caresses my face. "I hope that future of yours includes me, Bella Swan, because I don't intend to let you go easily."_

_"It does," I breathe out. I can't imagine a future without him in it._

* * *

" _No_!" I scream. I refuse to have this be our ending. Adrenaline surges through my body, giving me the strength to hoist him up. I walk backward, dragging him across the room ignoring the strain of my muscles.

Resting him against the wall beside the door, I pull the key chain out of my pocket. "Blue key, blue key, blue key," I mutter flipping through the numerous keys. Holding up the right one, I try to put it into the lock, my shaking fingers making it difficult. Once it turns, I crack open the door and peek out.

The majority of the gunfire is at the end of building to my left. There are several blinding spotlights coming from the main road, I assume that they're originating from the vehicles the guard mentioned. Each side is exchanging gunfire, but neither is advancing. Smoke and fire are coming from the right, and there is a tree burning across the parking lot, I assume both are the result of the explosions earlier.

Scanning from side to side, I don't see anyone monitoring the door. Crouching down, I rush several feet to the SVU I left behind, moving quickly to the driver's side door. The gunfire continues, but luckily, it doesn't sound any closer than it did before.

Kneeling, I reach my hand up. "Please, please, please." When the handle clicks, I breathe a sigh of relief. Opening the door, I crawl in, laying across the seat towards the ignition switch. When I see the keys dangling from it, my heart soars.

Crawling out, I crouch back down and move to the left rear door. Slowly, I pull it open as wide as it will go. Looking up, I glare at the dome light knowing that it will surely bring attention to the SUV. Scrambling into the back seat, I quickly switch off the light, listening for any nearby movement. Believing that the coast is still clear, I get out and maneuver towards the front bumper. Fortunately, the fighting remains at the other end of building.

_It's now or never_.

Taking a breath, I rush back to where Edward is waiting. Holding my hand up to his neck, I breathe a sigh of relief when I can still feel a faint pulse. Gathering my courage, I squeeze myself behind him, using the wall to support us as I pull him up. Scooting to the side, I drag his body out of the door. My muscles scream, his body heavier with each step, but I refuse to give up, not when we are so close.

Halfway there, a loud whooshing sound distracts me. I look up just in time to see one of the vehicles across the street explode into flames. The force of the blast knocks me down, bits of metal raining down several feet away. Bodies scramble and the gunfire intensifies. Another whoosh fills the air followed by an explosion to the left side of the building.

I struggle to pull Edward's body back up, finding it harder and harder to move him. "I've got to get you out of here," I grunt, digging deep for strength. Finally reaching the SUV, I lay him next to the door, overwhelmed by the prospect of lifting him in. I shake my head when tears fill my eyes.

_No! I can't give up now_.

Crouching lower, I put my arms under his shoulders. Just when I'm about to push up, a crunching sound from behind me stops me cold. Letting go of Edward, I quickly pull the gun out of my jeans and whirl around, ready to pull the trigger.

Relief floods my body when I meet the shocked eyes of Ben. "Whoa," he yells holding up his hands.

An involuntary sob rushes out of my body as I leap into Ben's arms. Remembering that we have no time to waste, I pull back quickly and grab his hand. "He's been shot, he needs help," I yell frantically.

"Fuck," Ben kneels down and checks his pulse. "He's still alive."

"We need to get him help."

Pulling a walkie-talkie from his vest, he quickly barks into it. "I've found the targets. Get a medic and a chopper to the rendezvous point immediately." Putting it back in his vest, he looks at the SUV. "Were you taking this?"

"Yes. The keys are still in it."

"Okay, let's go."

Getting into the same position I was in when he found us, he effortlessly lifts Edward and places him in the back seat. Shutting the door, he opens the driver's door and waves me in. I quickly move to the passage side, watching the chaos of the fight beside us.

"Stay down," Ben yells, turning the key and throwing it into reverse.

With one hand, he easily steers the car, while the other one holds his service weapon, ready to engage if needed. My heart is racing and a million questions flutter around my brain, but I'm too scared and shocked to speak.

"Hold on." Ben peels out of the parking lot, gunfire ricocheting all around us. "How's he doing?"

I can't move.

"Bella!" Ben shouts. "How is Edward?"

The sound of his name breaks me from my trance. He's still laying on the backseat unconscious, his body bouncing as we speed away from the motel, the sheet, horrifyingly red.

"He's bleeding too much." Crawling over my seat, I kneel on the floorboard and check his pulse, holding my breath until I feel the shallow rhythm of his heart. "He's getting weaker. We have to hurry."

"Where was he shot?"

"Umm, stomach I think,"

Ben grabs the walkie-talkie again. "I have a gunshot wound to the abdomen. He's lost a lot of blood. Have plasma ready. We're five minutes out." Throwing it down on the seat, he looks at me through the mirror. "He's going to be okay, Bella."

"He will," I agree, refusing to believe anything else.

Veering off the road, Ben follows a winding driveway to a field filled with official-looking cars and emergency vehicles.

"Holy shit."

"We came prepared," he mutters, skidding to a stop next to an ambulance and jumping out. Opening the back door, he waves the medic over. "He's in here."

Pushing Ben to the side, several medics roll a gurney next to the door and with practiced fluidity maneuver Edward onto it. I stand by helplessly as they frantically work to stabilize him. Ben puts his arms around me, whispering into my ear, but I can't process his words. I hear familiar medical terms, but their meaning is lost. Several minutes later, the sound of a helicopter drowns out their words, Ben and I turn as it lands, the dust flying and blowing my hair.

As soon as it's on the ground, they rush Edward over. "You're going with him," Ben yells, pushing me forward.

I nod in agreement but suddenly stop and turn. "Riley—"

"Don't worry, Bella. I'll get him. Focus on Edward right now."

Throwing my arms around his neck, I give him a quick hug. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job, ma'am," he whispers, clutching me tightly. "Now go."

The flight back to San Francisco is a blur. I sat frozen the entire trip, focused on Edward's face and willing him to pull through. As soon as we land, a medical team meets us on the roof rushing him into surgery while a couple of nurses shuffle me into a private waiting room.

Feeling as if I'm in a dream, I respond numbly to a barrage of questions including my name and information regarding Edward's overall health. Then before I truly even recognize that the nurses were there, they rush back out.

Standing in the middle of the room, I glance down at my blood stained hands, my legs shaking uncontrollably. The deafening silence is too much. It feels like just moments ago, I was fighting for my life and now I'm just standing in a room, alone and helpless. Looking down, I cringe at my soiled clothes. I feel dirty, tainted. I try to rub it off, the color refusing to vanish.

_This is Edward's blood._

_Oh God, I'm covered in Edward's blood!_

Falling to my knees, I rub harder and harder. I can't stop, powerful sobs ripping through my chest as I break into a million pieces. Time blurs as I sit, purging my emotions, wiping desperately at my blood-caked clothes trying to make it all disappear.

In the middle of my despair, a surprising warmth surrounds me. "Oh, honey," a gentle voice whispers.

Looking up, I notice a white blanket wrapped around me, glancing behind I find a nurse with somber eyes. "Oh God!" I yell jumping up. "Is he dead?"

She looks shocked and then embarrassed. "Oh no. I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I came to see if you were all right. My name's Carol, do you needed anything."

"He's still alive?" I ask again, needing a confirmation.

"Yes, but still in surgery. Now, what can I get  _you_?"

"Nothing," I whisper. I just want Edward.

"How about some clothes," she suggests softly. "I can also take a look at your throat. I bet that hurts."

My hand grazes along my collarbone. "I forgot about that," I murmur. Saving Edward was my only focus everything else fell away.

"I'm sure. How about we get you cleaned up and find you some new clothes."

"But Edward—"

"Is in good hands," she interrupts. "If there is any news, I'll make sure that you know right away."

"Okay." I feel dazed, like I'm floating.

Minutes or maybe hours later, I'm back in the waiting room wearing scrubs, once again, sitting alone, and praying for news. Leaning over, I wrap my arms around myself and look down at the floor. I don't know how to cope with this. Ever since Edward returned, I'd convinced myself that I didn't care about him, that I didn't need him in my life. Now, faced with the possibility of that reality, I can't breathe. I don't think I can live through one more loss, especially his.

Lost in my own world, I jump when Jasper and Alice rush through the door. "Bella!" Alice throws her arms around me. "Thank God you're okay." I bury my head into her shoulder, grateful for the familiar comfort of her arms.

"How's Edward?" Jasper asks, sitting next to me, placing his arm around my shoulder.

"Still waiting to hear. Wait?" I ask, looking between them. "How did you know?"

"Ben called us."

I sit up straighter. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. He, Emmett, and Rose are on their way here. Sounds like the mission was successful."

"Riley?" I ask apprehensively.

"In custody." Jasper grins and rubs my shoulder. "It's over."

"Finally," I whisper, leaning back against my chair in relief. "Where are they taking him?"

"A secure location," I glance over warily remembering that Sam was also in a secure location. "Don't worry, Bella. He's not getting out."

Alice moves into the chair next to me, still holding my hand. "I hope not," I say, too tired to consider any other options.

"Ben also said that Alec and Sam were dead at the scene," Jasper adds. "So you don't need to worry about them either."

"Yeah, I know." The memory of their bodies makes me shiver.

"How did you know?" Alice asks, but before I can answer, Carol, walks through the door.

Quickly standing, I meet her halfway. "Is he okay?"

"He's out of surgery and holding his own," she smiles. Jasper is thankfully there to help me stand as my body crumbles. "They're moving him to recovery if you want to see him. The doctors will be by shortly to give you the full update on his condition."

"But he's okay?" I clarify.

"He's okay. Things look good. He's very lucky."

"I should let Ben know," I mutter, automatically reaching for the phone that's no longer there.

"We'll take care of that, you go," Alice says.

"Okay. Thank you." I give them each a quick hug and then follow the nurse down the hall. "I thought only relatives could see patients in recovery." I don't want to ruin the opportunity, but I'm surprised that she's allowing me into his room.

"You're listed as his next of kin," she responds matter-of-factly.

I stop short. "I am?"

"Yes." She looks at me curiously. "Is something wrong?"

Shaking my head, I start moving again. "No, no."

Walking into his room, memories of visiting my mother bombard me. That same nasty smell and horrible sounds that accompanied every visit I had with her, assaults my senses. Swallowing back my fear, I remind myself that this is different. Today, I'm not coming to say goodbye.

"I'll leave you alone," Carol whispers, walking away and closing the curtain behind her.

Edward's face is deathly pale, various tubes attached to his arms and face. Pulling a chair over, I lay my head next to his body, unable to control my tears. "You're not allowed to die. Do you hear me, Edward Cullen?"

I carefully grab his hand, lacing our fingers together. "I know I haven't given you much leeway since you've been back, but I was serious when I said that I want to try."

Pulling his hand under my chin, I close my eyes. "You can't come back into my life and make all these promises and then leave again. It doesn't work that way, Cullen. Fight your way back. I promise that this time I'll be here." I snuggle in closer, savoring the feel of his hand in mine. "I'll be here."

A sensation of fingers running through my hair pulls me from unconsciousness. It takes me a moment to realize that I fell asleep. Feeling it again, I lift my head and find myself looking right into Edward's beautiful eyes.

"Bella?"

Tears spill down my cheeks. "Hi," I sigh, brushing the hair off his forehead.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

The insane question makes me laugh. "I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he grimaces touching the gauze wrapped around his middle. "What happened? Did we get Riley?"

"Shh," I whisper. "It's fine. Ben took care of it."

"How?"

"Don't worry about that now, just focus on getting better."

"I thought I was a goner," he admits, playing with my fingers.

"Me too. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I love you," he whispers.

Grabbing his face, I look into his eyes, no longer afraid to express my feelings. "I love you too."

His eyes widen before his face breaks into a huge grin. "If I knew that all it would take was a little gunshot wound to get you to say that, I would have arranged this days ago."

"Shut up," I laugh, gently touching his shoulder in lieu of a push.

"Say it again," he asks softly, his eyes shining.

"I love you, Edward Cullen." Very carefully, I lean down to kiss him, the light of a second chance filling the holes in my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Up next: Tying up loose ends. What happened to Angela and Kate? Is Jake dead? Plus one last showdown between Bella and Riley.


	25. Chapter 23: Faithfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Thank you everyone for all the reviews and notifications. They brighten my day. :)
> 
> Thank you as always to LostInPA, she has been an amazing support throughout this whole process.
> 
> Now, on with the story!

Chapter Twenty-Three: Faithfully

_"Scared and sacred are spelled with the same letters. Awful proceeds from the same root word as awesome. Terrify and terrific. Every negative experience holds the seed of transformation."_

_Alan Cohen_

* * *

"You'll need to take it easy for several weeks, but other than that you should be as good as new."

"You're sure?" I question suspiciously remembering how Edward looked just a couple of days ago.

"I'm sure." The doctor smiles warmly trying to mollify my concerns even though he clearly thinks them to be unwarranted. "The abdominal wall slowed the bullet down. He was lucky."

"You see, Bella. I'm going to be fine." Edward pulls our entwined hands to his lips and kisses my hand. "Stop worrying."

"Okay." I'm finding it difficult to trust things. The world around me is moving too fast and I'm having trouble holding on.

"Alright," he says. "I'll be back before the end of my shift. If things keep going the way they're going, you should be out of here in no time."

"That's great, doc. Thank you." Edward waits until he's out of the room before pulling me onto the bed. "Talk to me," he requests softly.

"About what?"

Edward exhales a deep sigh. "When's the last time you slept?"

"I got a several hours last night."

"Bella –"

"I swear. Plus, Emmett made me go home for a few hours yesterday, remember."

Edward appraises me closely, the intensity of his eyes making me squirm. "Tell me, what's going on with you."

"Nothing's going on with me."  _I'm fine. I'm fine._

"Bella, something's going on." He carefully places his hand on my cheek. "You can talk to me. I just want to help."

"I'm fine!" I snap, before shutting my mouth, embarrassed by my outburst. "I'm sorry. I, um, I'm going to get some coffee." I stand up quickly, avoiding his concern. It's hard to discuss something I don't even understand.

"Okay, baby," he whispers as I escape out the door.

Trying to hold everything together, I wrap my arms tightly around my body and focus on walking to the cafeteria. I know Edward is right. I feel different, but it's hard to quantify exactly how or why. Things feel distant, dimmer. Yet in the same breath, I'm also anxious, jumping at every shadow and I can't figure out a way to fix it.

Weaving through the crowded cafeteria, I keep my eyes downcast to avoid eye contact, my mind flooded with tangential thoughts. Standing in line flexing my fists, I keep reminding myself to breathe. The only thing keeping me sane is focusing on getting Edward better.

_Damn it!_

I shouldn't be here wallowing in my ridiculous emotions. I need to get back to him before something happens. Numbly paying for my drink, I quickly walk back to Edward's room, coffee in hand. Barreling through the door, I'm surprised to see a new visitor.

"Hi ya, Justice." Ben quips from a seat in the corner.

"Hi. I thought you were in interviews all day."

The events of a couple nights ago have resulted in several agencies scrambling and vying for their part of Riley Biers. That has equated to non-stop interviews and questions for all of us involved. Ben, trying to keep the heat off Edward and I, has taken the brunt of things.

"I'm needed here more."

He and Edward make eye contact, both expressing that same concerned look I've seen on all of my friends' faces over the last several days and months. I hate  _that_  look. It makes me feel like an exhibit at a freak show.

"For what?" I ask cautiously, sensing that they're up to something.

"Come on, we're going on a trip." Ben gets up and walks towards me.

"What? I can't leave." I look frantically between him and Edward.  _What if something happens?_

"Yes, you can. I'm fine. Go," Edward says sternly.

"But—"

"No 'buts'. Let's go." Ben wraps his arm around my shoulder and gently guides me to the door.

"I love you," Edward yells as we walk out.

"I really don't want to leave," I protest, but Ben ignores me, moving us swiftly towards the exit. "Where are we going?"

"Your house."

I turn to look at him incredulously, irritated by whatever scheme they've conjured up. "Why in the hell would we be going to my house?"

When I try to stop, he grabs my hand, dragging me towards his truck. "Because that's where your gear is." Ben blurts out the perplexing words as if I'm supposed to understand what he means.

Opening the door on the passenger's side, he guides me in before running around to get in the truck himself. "Please, Ben. I'm too tired for games. I don't want to leave."

Exhaling, Ben's hand stops before turning the key, his head lowering. "I know, Bella, but you need to leave." Turning, his eyes find mine, a fire burning within them. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help. Edward's trying to help. You need a break."

Instead of answering or trying to get answers, I turn away and look out the window, feeling too drained to fight. After hearing another big sigh, the truck finally starts moving. Deep down I know that they are only trying to help, but I'm struggling to let them in. Avoidance has become a familiar friend when things fall apart.

Watching the scenery pass by, I'm suddenly struck by the memory of Edward when he first returned. I remember being taken aback by the tiredness I saw within his soul. I'm shaken to realize that only after only a couple of weeks in his world that same tiredness has latched onto me too, inhabiting my body like a cancer.

Lost in a fog, I'm surprised when we pull into a parking spot a few yards away from my house. "Edward says you keep your surfing gear in the garage. Is that right?"

My head swings around in dazed. "Surfing? You can't be serious."

"I am. You've told me plenty of times that it's your solace. So that's what we're going to do."

"I'm not in a good space for surfing," I argue. The thought of having to focus on everything needed to balance the board makes my head hurt.

"Which is exactly the reason you  _need_  to go. Come on. Let's go find your Zen." He holds out his hand. "Keys."

Speechless, I blindly hand him what he wants and then sit motionless as he walks back and forth between the garage and the truck, grabbing gear and throwing it in the back. Before long he's standing at the passenger's door holding it open.

"Are you going to get ready?" He glances at my clothes. "I mean it's not like stuffing regular clothes into a wetsuit hasn't been done before, it's just a bit awkward."

"You're really not going to leave this alone are you?"

"Nope." He flashes an annoyingly bright smile.

"Fine," I spit, getting out and stomping towards my front door.

Close to an hour later, I find myself standing on the edge of the shore, staring at the rough surf with Ben at my side. The fog is lingering today, the dreary weather perfectly matching my mood.

"Let's do this." Ben runs into the waves and paddles out.

Taking a deep breath, I walk forward. There's a heaviness in my chest that makes it difficult to move. I feel wired, desperately teetering on an unknown edge, one that I don't know if I can hold onto anymore. The last thing I want to do is surf. I should be with Edward, keeping him safe is all that matters.

Paddling out, I lay on the board watching for a wave. If I do this quick, maybe I can satisfy whatever Ben is trying to accomplish and then we can leave. Seeing a swell that could work, I paddle quickly to get ahead and jump up. Before I can fully stand, I lose my balance and fall into the surf, the wave crashing over my head. This time of year is not for amateurs, the surf is often harsh and punishing. Frustrated, I pull myself back on the board and paddle out again. Repeatedly, I try to get up with the same result, each time my heated resolve strengthening to make the next wave. Battered and exhausted I continue to fall, the waves mocking me, each one luring me with the promise of success only to best me.

_I'm not going to let this fucking ocean get me too._

I lose track of how many times I try, my body numbed by pain and cold. After a particularly unforgiving fall, I follow the waves to the shore, dragging my board onto the beach, frustrated tears running down my face and blurring my vision. Aggravated, I quickly release the board from my ankle and kick it. Watching it slide across the sand, a sudden surge of energy overtakes me. Almost possessed, I target my frustration on the fucking board that won't hold me up. Kicking it repeatedly and ignoring the increasing pain in my foot, I irrationally scream at it for letting me down, my pointless tantrum lasting until my body flops to the ground spent.

"Ready to talk about it?"

I turn to see Ben standing to the side, watching me closely. I try to argue, but his raised eyebrow prevents my futile lie.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I whisper.

Ben sits down, both of us staring at the horizon. "You've been through a lot. You've been in fight mode. Now that it's all over, it makes sense that you'd feel a little off."

"I killed someone." The words come out so quickly that I hardly recognize my own voice.

"I know."

"And Edward almost died."

"Yeah."

"I killed someone and Edward almost died," I repeat, although this time I can't stop the tears that come with them. "I don't know what to do with that."

Ben scoots closer, his body warming my side. "You work through it. Find a way to accept it."

I glance at him "It's that simple?"

"No, but holding it in isn't working either. It's like poison, Bella. Trust me, I have some experience in this area," Ben admits.

"Uh huh," I mutter, trying not to imagine all of the things that he's seen and done. "But you also knew what you were signing up for."

"Maybe. Still, there are some cases where that doesn't matter." I turn towards him when he pauses, watching as he slowly sifts sand through his fingers. "It was a mission pretty early in my career that went bad. We were almost to the plane when the gunfire started. I swung around and shot. There was no choice, but I reacted before I really looked." He pauses again. "It was just a kid. Fourteen or fifteen years old, holding a weapon older than he was and I just shot. Killed him instantly."

I can see that the burden still weighs on him. "I'm sorry," I whisper, having no idea what else I could possibly say to make a difference.

"It haunted me. I saved my team, but it haunted me. I was lost for a bit. I couldn't sleep, and saw him whenever I turned around. I didn't think I'd survive it…" he chokes out a humorless laugh. "Or maybe the truth was that I didn't want to survive it. I wanted to punish myself."

"How did you get over it?"

He looks over with a reflective smile. "Edward…and time, but mostly Edward kicking my butt good."

"How."

"It's weird. Logically, I knew I had no choice, but my emotions wouldn't get on board. So I pushed them back, told myself that I was being stupid. A big bad CIA agent can't regret their choices. It makes you weak."

"You believe that?" I ask.

He looks over sadly. "No. But that's what I told myself. I was trying to convince myself that I shouldn't be human."

"And Edward convinced you otherwise?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah. He was actually seeing you at the time."

Surprised, I try to make sense of the timeframe in my head. "Really?"

"I think we told you we met in the academy, right?" I nod my head remembering the conversation at the safe house. "Well, he became instant family. I trusted him, and he trusted me. We kept in contact even though he wasn't hired." Glancing over, he pins me with his eyes. "Whether you know it or not, you turned his life around. He came to life when he met you."

The words make me smile. He did the same for me. "I do, especially now, but it's always nice to hear."

"I'm glad you found your way back to each other. I've been pulling for you two for a long time."

"Thanks." His support means a lot, especially given that when it comes to Edward being back in my life, I still have an uphill battle with a couple of my other friends.

"But now the work starts, and you can't do it like this." He gestures, pointing out my slouched body and closed fists, both beacons of my turmoil.

"I know," I whisper, focusing intently on the grains of sand at my feet. "Logically, I know, but emotionally…"

"Right. Which was the whole point to my story. So where was I? Oh yeah, Edward kindly sharing his new found zeal for life. He was somehow able to create a safe avenue for me to fall apart, I guess. It was only then that I could heal." He pauses and throws his arm around my shoulder. "You had no choice, Bella."

"I keep going over and over it in my head."

"He was going to kill you. He would have killed you and then Edward. His lifestyle brought him to his ending. You're not responsible for that."

"I don't know how to let go. These few weeks and my father's death…I just can't…"

"Release it?"

"Yeah."

"I bet that your heart has been nudging you, though." I look at him confused. "Those moments when all the air seems to leave you or your body is unexplainably taut. Instead of recognizing them for what they are, you fight, ignoring them and walking through life numb. In many ways, it's safer, cleaner. The false pretense of always maintaining control is an alluring prospect." His words hit home, making it hard to swallow. Nevertheless, no matter how hard to listen to him, I force myself to sit still. "It's okay to fall apart, Justice. There are plenty of people around to catch you."

"How do I do that?" I choke.

"It's not difficult." He pulls me in even tighter. "You just let go."

"And what if it's too much? What if I can't put myself back together?" My chest grows heavier with each word, my strength to hold everything back dissolving.

"I won't let that happen.  _Edward_  won't let that happen."

"I'm tired," I admit.

Leaning over, he whispers in my ear. "Then let go."

Closing my eyes, I imagine myself stepping off the ledge that I've been clinging to so desperately. Sinking into his comfort, I take a staggering breath, and release a painful sob, the crashing waves drowning out the mournful sounds. Ben sits with me patiently as the poison slowly ebbs from my soul, each breath becoming a little less painful. Time blurs, but Ben never falters or moves.

Finally, I run out of tears, my body feeling empty but lighter. Wiping away the remnants of my breakdown, I glance up at Ben. "Okay, now that I'm a snotty mess, what do I do next? This didn't change anything that happened."

"No, but how do you feel?"

I pause to take stock of my body. "I don't know if better is the right word, but I don't feel like I'm losing my mind."

"That's a start," he says with a small smile before turning serious again. "Tomorrow I think you should come with me when we meet with Riley."

His words throw me. It's the last thing I expected him to say. "Really?"

"Really. Garrett is going to make it clear that there will be no deals, and we have enough to hold him without bail. I think it would be good for you to be there to see the final nail."

"Kate's decided to testify?"

Ben chuckles. "As soon as she was threatened with life in prison, she was willing to sing."

"And Angela?"

"It wasn't even a question. She wants his blood."

"How is she doing?"

Ben plays with the sand some more. "Not good."

"When is the funeral?" Authorities found her mother's body in one of the rooms at the hotel. Not surprisingly, Riley never intended to release her. The news, however, was devastating to Angela.

"On Thursday."

"I want to go."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that. She's pretty sure that everyone hates her."

"I was angry." I pause, remembering the shock of seeing her walk through that door. "Truthfully, I'm still angry, but I also know she didn't want to help Riley. What is the CIA going to do with her?"

"She's out, that's clear. They're trying to decide upon charges given the circumstances."

"How is Jake?"

"He's okay. He's the one pushing charges more than anyone. He's pissed that she used him."

"I can relate I feel like I've been in the middle of so many agendas it's hard to know what's real anymore."

He squeezes my shoulder. "I'm real. Edward's real. Regardless of the circumstances, that has never been in question. Not once."

The truth of his statement and that fact that I trust it brings a levity that I haven't felt in a long time. Looking out at the waves, I get the sudden urge to try again. Wiggling out of Ben's grasp, I stand up and grab my board.

"I want to go again."

"That a girl." He jumps up and gets his own board. "Give it all to the waves, Justice. And then leave it there."

For the next several hours, that's exactly what I do and for the first time since Edward was shot, I feel like I can finally breathe.

* * *

Walking into Edward's room, I'm surprised to see his bed surrounded by serious looking men in dark suits, the air tense.

"We'd like you to reconsider, Agent Cullen."

"There's nothing to reconsider. Besides, my role in Global is out in the open, there's nothing to gain by me staying."

"There are plenty of other options. You're a valuable asset," A large man standing closest to Edward points out.

"Sorry, sir, but you're mistaking me for someone who wasn't blackmailed into this situation in the first place. I'm done."

"If you reconsider—"

"I won't."

Nodding his head, the man turns to leave, the rest following his lead. Each man gazes at me before walking out the door. Each of their curious and ominous eyes is unnerving. Once the door closes, I shake off the feeling and focus on Edward who is looking at me with a smile.

"You look better," he says.

"I feel better. Ben had a 'Come to Jesus' intervention with me at the ocean."

"I'm glad." Edward looks down, straightening his blanket. "You know you can always talk to me, right. I want to be here for you too, Bella."

Walking over, I sit on the chair next to the bed and link our hands together. "I know. It's just been –"

"A lot. I get it, but I'm here and I'm not leaving again."

"Thank you." The promised future lingering in his unspoken words rouses me. "What was that about?" I ask, pointing towards the door.

"I just quit. You're officially looking at a free man."

"What about Global?"

"Being dismantled as we speak. I'm glad to be done with it."

"That's big a big decision. You sure you want to make it now?"

"It's time," he whispers, playing with our hands. "I have more important priorities."

"What about your mom? How is she going to feel about this?"

He hesitates, sadness falling over his face. "She'll be angry, that can't be avoided." He looks across the room, his eyes contemplative. "I was thinking about moving her closer. I don't know…I've been angry at her for so long, but I also know a lot of what happened wasn't all her fault."

"You want her to get better," I say knowingly. "You want her to be the mom you remember."

"Yeah. And I know that will never happen. She's done so much damage to herself, but I haven't really tried to help either."

Reaching up, I drag my free hand through his hair, his eyes closing in the process. "It's okay to love her, Edward. You'll figure it out."

His eyes open, the intensity of his emotions illuminating his them. "As long as you're with me, baby, I can get through anything."

I lean over and kiss his lips quickly. "I'm not going anywhere either. I love you."

"You can't imagine how much hearing that means to me." Tugging me back, he crashes his lips into mine.

His grasp tightens, drawing me closer until I'm lying next to him on the bed. His touch feels incredible. Not getting enough, I find myself losing control and succumbing to my desires until my fingers brush against his IV line, reminding me that we're in the hospital and he's recovering.

Regaining my control, I sit back in the chair and lay my hand on his chest. Clearing my throat, I try to get us back on safer topics. "Now that you're free of the CIA, what are you going to do?"

"First, I want to get out of here so I can take you on that date we talked about." He grasps my fingers tightly, holding both of our hands over his heart.

"I mean with your job," I tease. The thought of going out on a date makes me feel giddy, demolishing even more of the darkness that has been surrounding me the last few days.

"I don't know yet. It's been a long time since I've had a chance to think about it."

"Are you still interested in joining the police force?" Scooting forward, I lean my head on the bed close to his, fighting a yawn.

His exhaled breath ghosts across my hair. "Not really. I don't feel like jumping from the frying pan into the fryer. I think I want a change of pace."

"Walmart greeter?" I joke.

"Cable car driver," he mocks in return.

Before I can throw out another ridiculous idea, my phone buzzes with a message. Sitting up, I take it out of my pocket and read over Ben's instructions for tomorrow.

"What's going on?" Edward asks.

"Ben's texting me about tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

Putting my phone back, I contemplate the best way to tell him. I'm sure Edward won't be thrilled about me confronting Riley while he's stuck in the hospital. "I'm going with him to talk to Riley."

Edward sits up, groaning in the process. " _What?_ "

"Careful!" I chastise. "Edward, I need to do this. I need to put this behind me."

Taking a deep breath, I watch him control his reaction. "Ben's going with you?"

"He'll be with me the whole time," I state. Edward probably knows that I won't change my mind, but I also don't want to fight with him while he tries.

Taking another deep breath, he turns towards me with a wry smile. "Then give him hell for me too."

"Okay." His trust means a lot. We need to trust each other if we have any chance of making this work.

"I'm always going to want to protect you, but I also understand that this is what you need to do."

"It is."

"I want a fresh start, whatever it takes," Edward declares. "Do whatever you need to do, just come back to me."

"I promise," Leaning over, I kiss his lips again, the significance of the moment intensifying the power behind it.

Laying my head on his chest, I sigh happily as he strokes my hair. For the first time since he was shot I actually feel like sleeping. The relaxing motion of Edward's hand causes my body to tingle as I slowly sink into unconsciousness.

* * *

Walking into this holding facility is a much different experience than walking into the one that was holding Sam. There are barbed-wired fences around the building and steel doors that are buzzed open by the uniformed guards. It's a depressing scene, and one that gives me pleasure when I think about how much Riley must hate it.

Ben walks closely beside me in full agent mode. His stance is rigid and face stern, nodding at any officer that passes. Finally, reaching the interview room, I spot Garrett waiting for us outside the door, dressed in a gray suit, and holding a briefcase.

"Bella," he says formally, sticking out his hand. "His lawyer still believes that he can get him out on bail. Neither knows that we have Angela and Kate testifying, not to mention that the CIA is working with Interpol to go through all of his assets. Once we start poking around, I'm sure more people will be jumping at the chance to make a deal."

"That's great, but I don't want to rely on that. Do you have enough to fry his ass now?" Ben asks.

"Between the club and what went down at the hotel, absolutely," Garrett answers honestly.

"What about my father?" Although his killer is dead, I want the truth about his death officially on the record to ensure that any lingering doubts about my father's loyalties are put to rest once and for all.

Garrett looks at me sympathetically. "We added several conspiracy charges to the list. We've gathered enough evidence prove without a doubt that Riley was paying Sam. I promise that we will get justice for your father, Bella."

"Thank you," I whisper, feeling Ben's hand at the small of my back.

"Just doing my job," he states sincerely.

"When is the arraignment?"

Garrett looks at his watch. "In a couple of hours. We were able to buy some time with enough petty charges to hold him over, but his lawyers aren't going to let this go much longer without all the charges being read."

"Can I come?" I ask.

"Absolutely. As soon as we're done here, we'll head over to the courthouse." Garrett clasps my shoulder gently. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's do this," I state confidently, straightening my spine.

One of the officers opens the door allowing me to walk into the stark concrete room. Riley is already sitting at the table, dressed in a prison jumpsuit and bound by handcuffs, a waist chain, and leg irons. Next to him is a fancy dressed man whom I assume is one of his lawyers.

"What a surprise," Riley purrs. The strength of his ego is astounding. He sounds like he did at the hotel, as if he's still in charge.

"I like your new look," I scoff in return. "It fits you, which is good since you'll be wearing it for a long time."

"Oh darling, I wouldn't bet on that," he snarls.

"We'll see." I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the table; Garrett sits down next to me.

"What is she doing here? This was not sanctioned," Riley's attorney, barks.

"Ms. Swan is not here in any official capacity," Garrett argues. "She has a right to confront her attacker."

" _Alleged attacker_ ," The lawyer bites back.

"That's hilarious," Ben jumps in, leaning against the sidewall with his arms crossed. "Unless he has an identical twin, I think we are a little beyond 'alleged'."

Riley glares at Ben, his lawyer placing his hand on his arm trying to help him remain calm. "Innocent until proven guilty. Now, what is the point of this meeting? My client and I have an arraignment to prepare for."

Removing some papers from his briefcase, Garrett glances at the attorney, "About that, in an effort to be transparent, I thought that you and your client should know that we will be requesting no bail at the hearing."

"I'm not surprised, but it doesn't mean that you'll get it."

"Oh, I think we will." He lays some documents on the table. "These are affidavits signed by several witnesses indicating that Riley Biers orchestrated the disturbance at his club. Given the pre-meditated nature of his act, we will be adding five counts of first-degree murder to his current charges."

"He's a well-known business man," his lawyer scoffs. "What reason would he have to destroy his business?"

"Oh I don't know, to save his own ass?" Ben challenges.

"We're not here for your commentary, Agent."

"How's this for commentary? Your client is a well-known mobster with easy access to travel," Ben hisses. "You're fighting a losing battle."

Pulling out another paper, Garrett pushes it over to Riley. "We also have enough to tie Mr. Biers to the apartment that Sam Uley used to assault and murder several women. Therefore, we are also adding two counts of felony murder for the brutal killings of Samantha Whitely and Katie Marshall." I can't help but smile. My Dad can rest easy now knowing that they will finally have justice as well.

The lawyer tightens his hold on Riley when he flinches. "That's a bit of a stretch don't you think?"

"Actually I don't," Garrett states plainly.

"Maybe you should advise your client not to hire psychopaths to do his bidding. He released Sam onto the world, now he will be held responsible for the consequences," I jump in, glaring at Riley.

"You'd like to think that this will stop me, wouldn't you, Ms. Swan? You might slow me down, but I never forget those that cross me. I'd be careful if I were you."

In a flash, Ben moves over and slams his hands against the table. "Are you really threatening an officer of the court in front of witnesses? You're as stupid as you look."

"My client is distraught from being kept here without due process. He's frustrated and talking out of turn. Of course, he would not threaten Ms. Swan." The lawyer looks pointedly at Riley knowing that his behavior is not going to help with their defense.

"Uh huh," Garrett says disbelievingly. "Why don't we finish this then. Finally, we will also be adding charges related to the planning and cover-up of Officer Charles Swan's murder."

"That had nothing to do with me!" Riley roars.

"We disagree on that point, Mr. Biers. It will now be up for a jury to decide."

"What do you want?" The lawyer asks tightly.

"Nothing," Garrett answers. "I just wanted to make it clear to Mr. Biers exactly what he's up against before we head to court."

"We are prepared to argue against your request for no bail."

"I expected as much, but you won't win." Garrett gathers the documents and places them back in the briefcase. "Oh wait, Agent Cheney, please let Mr. Biers know where he will be held while he's waiting for his day in court."

"Of course," Ben says, a sinister grin spreading on his face. "We've got a nice little spot carved out in the county jail, general population."

Riley shoots his eyes over to his lawyer, nervously waiting for him to respond to the indirect threat. "We'll be requesting protective custody if that happens."

"Oh, that's right!" Ben exclaims dramatically. "Riley and his dead associate Alec were setting up a little gang war in San Francisco." Shaking his head, he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "I hear La eMe is not too happy with you. Neither are the Asians nor the Nortenos."

"Sounds like you will be in for a wild ride." I laugh sitting back in the chair, watching the sweat break out on Riley's forehead. He leans over to whisper to his lawyer.

"What do you want for a deal on his placement?" The lawyer sighs.

Garrett stands. "There is nothing he can offer that will change our decision. He made his bed, now it's time for him to lie in it." Walking towards the door, Garrett bangs on the door.

"Placing my client in a hostile situation is a violation of his rights. Anything that happens to him will be the responsibility of the CIA and DOJ."

Turning around, Garrett responds calmly. "You misunderstood. Currently, there is no specific information that Mr. Biers life is in danger. Should new information come to light or something happen, we will of course, look into other options, but as of now he will be housed in general population. End of discussion."

Staring at Riley's shell-shocked face, I lean forward. "I have to say, I think you've finally transformed into what you were always meant to be, a powerless, small shell of a man." Pushing against the table, I stand up. "See you in court, you son of a bitch."

* * *

The courtroom is unusually crammed with bodies because of the international news interest that Riley's case has generated. I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived to see Rose, Alice, Emmett, and Jasper waiting for us. Their support means everything to me and is exactly what I needed to calm my jitters. Sitting in the front row, we wait anxiously for the judge to start, Alice and Rose each holding one hand to stop me from picking at the chair.

Glancing at the right side of the table in the front, I watch as Garrett and Mike review their notes. Due to the high profile nature of Riley's case, Mike has decided to take more a hands on role and according to Jasper, will be present at all of the hearings.

"All rise," the court clerk yells, indicating that we are finally starting.

Taking a deep breath, I focus intently on Riley, wanting to catalog his every reaction. The judge reads off the lengthy lists of charges, and I feel empowered when he comes to the ones related to my dad. Glancing up at the ceiling, I close my eyes to revel in the moment.

_We did it, daddy. We finally did it._

Feeling Alice squeeze my hand, I turn to see her smiling, also recognizing the full magnitude of this moment. Months ago, I tried to accept that I would never know what happened. In truth, I was just running from my grief. Knowing might not change that he is gone, but I finally feel like I can start to overcome his loss.

"How do you plead?" the judge asks stoically.

"Not guilty," Riley answers quickly.

I watch intently as each side battles the bail argument. Until today, I haven't seen Garrett in action, Jasper was right to suggest him. He has solid skills, deftly arguing every point the defense tries. Finally, the judge declares an end to the arguments, agreeing not only to no bail but also denying a hearing on a special placement for him.

As soon as the gavel hits, I notice several men standing up in the aisle across from us. Given their attire and the various tattooed "13" on their bodies, they are clearly not interested in hiding their association. All of them stare at Riley, making sure that he sees them. Given Riley's reaction, he knows they didn't come to support him; the Mexican Mafia came to make a statement. Struggling against the guards, he desperately screams for the judge to reconsider. I can hear him even after they drag him out the doors. It's hard not to smile at his distress.

Standing up, I push my way past the crowd and over to Mike. "Hey," I say in the way of a greeting. Although I appreciate his dedication to this case, there is still no love lost between us.

"Bella. How are you?" His eyes scan the healing scrapes and bruises on my face.

"I'm fine. In fact, I want to come back to work. Can we talk about my leave?"

He regards me carefully. "Sure. Come to the office tomorrow morning and we'll discuss it."

"I'm ready, Mike," I maintain sternly.

"I have no doubt, but we have some things to sort out first. I don't want your presence in the office to jeopardize the Biers case."

"Understood. I don't want to do that either, I just want to get on with my life."

"Okay. Let me consult with some folks and then we can figure out a start date."

"Thank you," I say honestly, grateful he didn't make it more difficult.

"Sure," he says, distracted by something behind me.

Before I can turn to see what it is, Emmett suddenly picks me up and swings me around. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Mike rolls his eyes and walks away while everyone else I know watches the scene with a smile.

"How does justice feel, Bella?" Emmett asks putting me down with a crooked smile.

"It's all a bit surreal," I admit. "But I feel good."

"You should. This was a long time coming," Rose points out, glancing towards Riley's scrambling defense team. "They know it's the end too."

"I hope so."

"What's next for you?" Alice asks, throwing her arm around me. "I feel a celebration coming on."

"Hell yeah," Emmett agrees.

"Sounds good to me. The Fillmore?" Jasper asks, leaning over to kiss Alice's head.

"I'd love to, but I want to get back to the hospital," I admit.

"Why? I thought Edward was okay?" Rose asks, struggling to hide her disdain.

"Rose," Emmett warns. "We understand. Do what you need to do. We have plenty of time for a celebration."

Reaching up, I throw my arms around Emmett. "Thank you for always understanding," I whisper in his ear.

"That's what family is for," he whispers back.

"Work on her for me, will you? Edward's not going anywhere," I request quietly before kissing his cheek. He winks in acknowledgment.

Grasping my arm, Alice pulls me towards her. "Go get your man, but someday soon we need to talk."

"I know." My friends have been incredibly supportive, but they have also been operating in crisis mode. Now that everything is settling down, I know that I have a lot to explain, to everyone.

Giving a final round of hugs, I rush out of the courthouse to run some errands. I have my own idea for a celebration tonight.

* * *

Carrying several bags and balloons, I awkwardly push my way through Edward's door.

"Bella?"

With a huge smile on my face, I drop everything on a chair and rush over. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hold nothing back as I lay my lips on his, quickly deepening the kiss, and running my hands through his hair.

Breathless, we finally disconnect. "Wow," Edward murmurs while his hand gently cups my cheek. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"He's being held without bail."

"That's great, baby. We knew it would be a slam dunk."

"I know." I walk over to the bags to pull out some electric candles. "But I'm happy. It's over and I feel free." Unable to stop smiling, I put the candles on the tray next to him and then head back to the bags.

"Whatcha got over there?"

"I wanted to celebrate," I shrug, taking out a couple of packages of applesauce and fake champagne glasses. "Although your current situation makes it a bit challenging."

"You're right. I don't know what I was thinking getting shot."

"Ha, ha," I scold with a grin. "Anyway, due to your tender stomach, we will be celebrating on a fancy dinner of broth, applesauce, and of course toasting the evening with the finest sparkling water in plastic glasses."

"Sounds fantastic," he laughs.

Getting the rest of the stuff out of the bag, I run into the brochures I promised to bring with me. "Here," I say taking them over to Edward. "Emmett wanted me to give these to you."

His eyes light up when he sees them. "Great!"

"Are you apartment hunting?" I ask carefully. "Didn't you find a place when you first moved back?"

He looks up, setting the brochures on his lap. "That was a place I got to play the role of Edward Cullen, CEO. That's not who I am or where I want to live."

Sitting down next to him, I pick up some of the options. "Where are you looking?"

"Hopefully somewhere close to Pacific Heights. I'm going to be spending a lot of time in that neighborhood."

"Really? Any specific reason?" I ask coyly.

"It has my favorite bagel shop," he says with a straight face to my annoyed one. "No seriously, I'll probably be there every morning."

"Laugh it up, but you'd better watch yourself or I'm not going to share my delicious broth with you."

"Are you sure you're a lawyer? I don't know if you truly understand the finer points of negotiating a deal. You need to lead with something the other person wants."

"Don't mock the broth, mister." Moving to get up, I stop when Edward grasps my arm, his face suddenly serious.

"It's good to see you smile, Bella. I was worried about you."

I sit back down. "I was worried about me too. I know I've still got a ways to go, but today was a good day."

"Here's to more good days," Edward whispers, bringing my hand up to kiss it.

"Agreed," I smile, running my fingers down his face.

"Now, where is that fantastic broth?" he asks sarcastically.

We spent the rest of the night laughing and enjoying each other's company. It was nice and familiar. When he finally fell asleep, I couldn't help but just stare at him. Drinking in the moment, I realize that this is exactly what I needed. This is healing.

* * *

Excited to share the news that Mike finally agreed to a return date, I rush into Edward's room, only to stop short when I see Ben, Emmett, and Jasper standing around him with somber faces.

"What's wrong?" I ask quickly.

Edward slowly scoots out of the bed and shuffles over. Although his range of motion is improving, his wound is still sore.

"Bella," he says slowly.

I take a step back, holding up my hand up to stop his forward movement. "What happened? Did Riley escape?"

"No," Jasper says hastily. "Nothing like that."

"Then what is it? Come on, you guys are scaring me."

Edward glances back at Ben and nods his head. Stepping forward, Ben goes first. "Riley Biers was stabbed in his prison cell today."

"Is he dead?" I glance between the stoic faces of everyone in the room.

"Yes," Edward states. "He bled out before the guards could get there."

Feeling light headed, I find a seat, Edward hovering over me. "He's dead," I murmur.

"Yes," Ben confirms, moving to kneel in front of me.

I look up disbelievingly. "He's really dead?"

"Are you okay?" Edward asks, massaging my shoulder.

"Am I okay?" I sort through my varied emotions. Shocked, stunned, but overall relieved. "I'm fine. Why does everyone look so worried?"

"We weren't sure how you'd take it," Jasper admits, stepping closer. "Especially given everything you've had to deal with lately."

"You're sure that you're okay?" Edward asks again.

"Honestly, I think I've been prepared for it. I'm relieved more than anything else. That trial would have hung over our heads for months. Oh shit!" I blurt out. "Is Garrett in trouble? Are  _you_  in trouble?" I demand, my focus shifting to Ben. "I mean we knew this was a possibility if he went into general pop."

"His lawyer wants an investigation, but there was never a substantiated threat against him. Nothing will come of it," Jasper maintains.

"That decision doesn't fall on you, Bella," Edward says quickly. Glancing around the room, I finally connect that their apprehension is about my reaction, not that Riley is dead.

"I know that," I affirm, hoping to alleviate their fears. "Maybe this makes me a horrible person, but I was being honest when I said I felt relieved."

"It doesn't make you a horrible person, it makes you human," Ben clarifies.

Scrubbing my face with my hands, I process the news again. "I can't believe it's over."

"It is. We can finally put this all behind us," Edward asserts, his face finally breaking into a smile.

"And to that, I say thank God and good riddance!" Emmett exclaims rubbing his hands together. "Let's celebrate!"

"Edward, you really need to get out of here." Ben stands back up with a wide smile. "By my count we're behind at least three celebrations. At this rate, we're going to be drunk for days."

"Well, alcohol I can't do, but who's up for a round of water?" Edward jokes, digging in the bag I left behind a few days ago for extra plastic glasses.

Watching the four of them laugh and tease each other makes me smile. For a while, I believed that nothing would ever be good again, and now everything good is within my reach.

* * *

Exhausted from a full day of depositions, I drag myself up the front steps fantasizing about crashing on my couch, watching mind-numbing television, and calling Edward. Reaching my door, I'm surprised to see a note taped to it, the familiar scrawl bringing a smile to my face. Reading it, my exhaustion magically fades. Turning around, I rush back to the street and flag down a cab.

Pulling up to the requested destination, I hand some cash to the driver and step into the desolate park. Zipping up my jacket, I walk over to the only lit baseball field. It's not quite the time of year for games and practice, so the other fields stand dark and abandoned. Placed against the fence are a bat and helmet, with a sign saying, "wear me" taped to the front.

Putting on the helmet, I walk through the gate and onto the batter's plate. I smile at the muted light above, watching as the fog floats by, the scene comforting. Not seeing the note writer yet, I decide to pass the time by practicing my stance. Holding up the bat, I pretend that I'm preparing for a pitch. Maybe this year, I can cram Mike's derogatory statements down his throat, especially since I hope to have some assistance in improving my game.

"I take it you're not a pro softball player?" A quiet, voice asks from behind me.

Lowering the bat, I swing around and find Edward leaning against the fence with a knowing smirk. The sensations I feel seeing him are so much stronger than they were on the day we met. "Don't be fooled. I've had a lesson."

"I think you need your money back or maybe some more one on one time." Pushing off the fence he ambles forward, his eyes igniting long forgotten feelings. The ones that make my body hum with pleasure.

"I don't know. You aren't some nut that hangs around baseball fields waiting to offer advice to random strangers, are you?" Dropping the bat, I move to meet him halfway, purposely swinging my hips.

"Maybe," he teases.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I taunt in return. It's hard not to laugh at his impish game, but I control my smile long enough to play along.

"Edward Cullen," he says, reaching out his hand. "And you are?"

"Bella Swan." I reach out and grab his hand firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Bella Swan," he whispers huskily.

"So, what do you do, Edward Cullen?"

"Barista," he deadpans.

Moving closer, I slowly drag my hands up his chest and around his neck. "Sound dangerous."

"You have no idea." Leaning down, his lips crash against mine, his hands pulling me in tightly against him. For several moments, we become lost in each other.

"When did they release you?" I ask once we come up for air. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"This afternoon," he murmurs against my lips. "I wanted to surprise you."

"How are you feeling? Shouldn't you be resting?" Even though he's out, I know that he still has weeks of rehabilitation ahead of him.

"I feel good. Besides, it's about time that I fulfilled my promise to take you out on a date."

Although we've seen each other every day, it's been in the midst of physical therapy and a busy hospital, not the most opportune environment to start over.

"Is that what this is? A date?"

Still keeping his arms around me, he pulls back enough to look into my eyes. "My life changed forever when I met you in this ball field, and the thought of that day always kept me going. It reminded me what was important and what I was fighting to protect. It just felt right that this place should also be the start of our second chance."

"Second chance. I like the sound of that."

"Good, then follow me, Ms. Swan."

Intertwining our hands, he pulls me towards the stands. There, on the bottom row, is a fancy place setting. Waving me to sit down, he takes a lighter out of pocket, lights the candle in the middle, and then takes off the cover of a fancy looking dinner.

"Wow! You went all out."

"Only the best, for the woman I love." He winks. "Now eat up, you're going to need your rest."

"Really, Mr. Cullen. For any particular reason?"

"Why for baseball lessons, of course, Ms. Swan. I intend to put you through your paces after dinner. I didn't rent this sucker out for the night for nothing," he jokes.

"Uh huh," I mock.

Pouring us some champagne, he hands me a glass and lifts his. "To us," he whispers.

Looking into his smiling eyes, I can't help but remember a quote from William Leal, suddenly struck by its simple truth.

_It's all messy: The hair. The bed. The words. The heart. Life._

"To us," I smile. "To everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we are down to one final chapter. Up next, the Epilogue which is all about Edward and Bella with a dash of how the gang processed all the secrets and lies.


	26. Epilogue: No Ordinary Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it. The final chapter. :)
> 
> I can't thank everyone enough for all the support and love you have shown this story. The amount of recs it received and having it nominated for an award meant the world to me.
> 
> LostInPA, what can I say, her support and advice was invaluable. I am so grateful that she was willing to beta for this story.
> 
> I'm not sure about future stories, life is pretty busy right now. However, in the spirit of a shameless plug, for those of you who like suspenseful, twisty stories with a detailed plot, I invite you to check out my other story as well. It's complete, so there won't be any torturous cliffhangers to wait through. ;)
> 
> Alright, on with the show!

Epilogue: No Ordinary Love

_"_ _I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was."_

_Sade Andria Zabala_

* * *

Time marches forward…

One year.

It's hard to fathom that it's been that long. I still remember every detail of that day, the chaos, and the fear that I would never survive it. Yet here I am, stronger and happier than I'd ever thought possible. I've not only endured a year without my dad but in many ways, I've thrived.

"Bella," Edward shouts, opening the front door. "You ready?"

"Almost," I yell, stuffing a few final items into my bag.

This past year has been a whirlwind of emotion and through it all Edward has stood by my side. We've had our fair share of struggles, especially early on as we worked through my insecurities about our future and his uncertainty about the direction of his life. He's been incredibly patient, always showing me through his actions that he was here to stay, while also never pushing for more than I was ready to give. He allowed me to work through and put to rest my hurt and grief, as well as my concerns about his trustworthiness. I'd like to think that we've come out better because of it.

Today, I feel grounded, content, and secure. Without a doubt, I know that I can trust him and myself. So much so that just a few months ago, I asked him to take another leap of faith with me.

* * *

_"_ _Hey, Edward?" I blurt out watching him leave._

_He turns in the doorframe. "Yeah?"_

_Swallowing my nerves, I spit out the words before I change my mind. "How would you like to use that key more often?"_

_Confusion colors his face as he looks down at his key chain. "Umm, I use it almost every day."_

_"_ _That didn't come out right," I mutter, twisting my hands. "I want you to stay here."_

_Edward's eyes widen before he breaks into a dazzling smile. Moving back into the house, he quickly shuts and locks the door behind him. "What are you trying to ask, baby?"_

_With Edward close enough to touch, I run my hand down his chest. "I want you around all the time. I want you here when I go to sleep and in the morning when I wake up."_

_Edward leans forward, his breath ghosting across my face. "Ask me."_

_"_ _Move in with me?"_

_The words barely escape my lips before his mouth covers mine. "Yes," he mumbles, deepening the kiss and pushing me against the wall._

_"_ _I seem to remember being here before," I hum between breathless kisses._

_"_ _This time though, I'm not leaving."_

_"_ _Ever?" I ask with a smile._

_"_ _Ever." Sweeping me into his arms, he walks upstairs._

_My lips travel up and down his neck. "When can you move in?"_

_"_ _Is tomorrow too soon?" He lays me on the bed, hovering above._

_"_ _What about your lease?"_

_"_ _Fuck my lease." The gruff intensity of his voice sends shivers down my spine._

_His lips attack mine, both of our bodies scooting until we are closer to the headboard. Reaching back, he pulls his shirt up and off, I lean forward to follow, but he pushes me back, his body quickly pinning me to the bed. His hands find mine. Tangling our fingers, he stretches my arms over my head. Greedy lips work their way down one side of my neck and up the other. Each touch brings me closer to the brink of madness, my body longing for him. With practiced agility, he helps me out of my clothes before quickly disposing of the rest of his. Laying on his side, Edward's hand slowly caresses my body, the heat of his touch burning a trail along my chilled skin. There is an enduring vulnerability in his eyes as the power of the moment intensifies making me realize that it is more than just our bodies that have been laid bare._

_Shifting until he is once again above me, Edward rubs his nose down the length of mine softly. "I love you, Bella Swan."_

_"_ _I love you too."_

_His face breaks into a blinding grin. "I'll never get tired of hearing that."_

_"_ _Then I guess I'll never stop saying it."_

_He kisses me slowly, the passion behind his deliberate movements overwhelming. Connected by body and soul we move together. Breathless, I soar off the edge to ecstasy._

* * *

The sight of Edward's things mingled with mine still fills me with an indescribable warmth. I knew this house was always my home, but it wasn't until it became "ours" that it really felt complete.

Catching sight of the clock, I quickly break away from my reverie and rush down the stairs. "Any word from Ben?" I ask, walking into Edward's waiting arms.

"He called about a half an hour ago. He should be here any minute."

"I can't believe he was able to get away."

"You know he wouldn't miss this." A sudden knock on the door makes us both turn. "Speak of the devil."

Untangling from Edward, I run over to open the door. Standing on the stoop is an almost unrecognizable Ben wearing Ray Ban sunglasses, an army green jacket, shoulder-length hair, and a porn-star mustache. I have to stifle my automatic laugh. "Wow! When did the CIA start traveling back in time to solve cases?"

"Hardy, har, har. Try living with this getup," Ben smirks before drawing me into a tight embrace.

"Holy shit!" Edward laughs as we walk back into the house. "Please tell me you're changing before we leave."

" _Yes_ ," he huffs. "I'll have enough time to grow the ' _stache_ back before I have to go, but I need to leave the hair."

"You better get a move on then. We have to leave in twenty minutes no matter what. We are  _not_ missing this flight," Edward admonishes.

"Chill, man. I'm on it," Ben joshes with a hippy accent and sarcastic salute. Carrying a large bag, he walks past us to the spare bathroom. Eighteen minutes later, he returns looking a little more like the Ben I remember, dressed in black slacks, a dark blue dress shirt, and black tie.

"Everyone meeting us there?" he inquires as we walk out the door to the waiting cab.

"Yeah," I confirm.

"How's the business?" Ben asks, turning towards Edward.

"Good." Edward takes my bag and opens the door of the cab so I can slide in. "Work is steady. Your people have really helped make it a success."

Edward struggled for several months trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do next. The CIA tried to convince him to stay, but he maintained that he wanted out of the spy game.

Surprisingly, Edward's interest ended up drifting more towards the business end of his recent experience instead of law enforcement. Although he hated the underlying nature of his grandfather's company, he liked the good that his influence could bring, like the charity event held at Alice's museum. He also admitted that there were aspects of the actual business part of the company that he liked.

Therefore, with the help of funding from his trust, he ultimately decided to start a legitimate security business that specializes in helping startup companies develop a secure computer network. Ben assisted by providing names of some trusted and reliable computer experts that could deal with the technical aspect of things. Although he loves his work with the CIA, a part of me suspects that the choice is also in part to provide him an alternative when he is ready. I'm just patiently waiting for the announcement of when he will officially join Edward.

Beyond regular charity events, Edward has also used his business expertise to start a non-profit organization dedicated to helping individuals and families overcome substance abuse. A cause that understandably became important after spending years watching his mother struggle. She continues to be a touchy subject in his life. He moved her to a facility near San Francisco a few weeks after Riley's death, but unfortunately, she continues to grapple with her addiction and health. It's difficult for him to watch her live a shell of a life that could have been so different.

Channeling all of his frustrated energy at not being able to help her into the non-profit organization made it successful quickly, gaining recognition and support from San Francisco's elite. I know it will never fill the hole she left behind, but watching other families succeed makes him feel like he's finally doing something good with his family's legacy.

Pulling up to the curb at the airport, Edward throws money at the cabbie. Rushing through the door, we run to security, which thankfully has a short line, and make it to the gate just in time for them to start calling the first passengers. I immediately spot Rose, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice anxiously waiting for us in the corner. They are dressed in their business finest, with Emmett sporting his dress blues.

"Jesus!" Jasper exhales, rushing forward. "I didn't think you guys were going to make it."

"Blame him." I throw my thumb in Ben's direction.

"Good to see you." Jasper smiles, holding out his hand to shake Ben's.

"You too." Ben turns the rest of the group. "Emmett," he says, patting him on the shoulder. "Alice." He pulls her into a hug, which she reciprocates with ease. Turning towards Rose, he simply nods with a tight smile. "Rose."

Once the craziness with Riley died down, tensions revved up between my friends. Given the nature of the work we do, I foolishly hoped that, for the most part, they would understand and accept the choices I had to make. Law enforcement often entails secrets for the greater good, and I know they are not naïve to the code of agencies like the CIA. However, I swiftly learned that when it comes to the people you also trust with your friendship, emotion often overpowers logic.

Jasper's even disposition made him the easiest one to reach. Thankfully, he remained the most rational and often times neutral within the group. His calming presence was helpful on more than one occasion, especially when it came to the tension between Emmett and Edward.

Edward's decision to keep the truth from him for so long really bothered Emmett. Ironically, he acknowledged that he understood from a law enforcement perspective, but regardless, he labored with the lies told by his best friend. Truthfully, I think a lot of his hurt came from knowing that Ben knew everything. Emmett's underlying feelings finally boiled over a couple of weeks after Riley's death.

* * *

_I follow Jasper through the gate and towards the basketball court at the far end where Emmett, Edward, and Ben are waiting. They have met to play on a handful of occasions, but today will be the last as Ben leaves for his next assignment tomorrow. Since today's game is taking place during our lunch break, I was able to sneak away to witness the final showdown. As usual, the teams are broken into Ben and Edward against Emmett and Jasper._

_Munching on a sandwich, I watch from a nearby bench, cheering whenever anyone makes a basket. As the game progresses, Emmett's coverage of Ben becomes more and more aggressive. I can tell by Ben's body language that he's getting frustrated, but is holding himself back from saying anything._

_In the middle of an intense play, Emmett suddenly elbow checks Ben directly in the nose. Grabbing a napkin, I jump up and run out into the court._

_"_ _What the hell is your problem?" Ben roars, pushing Emmett back and swiping at the blood dripping from his nose._

_"_ _No problem, man. Just defending my territory," Emmett hisses._

_"_ _Bullshit!" Edward shouts._

_"_ _Are you okay?" I ask, handing Ben the napkin. "Is it broken?"_

_Ben grabs the napkin, refusing to take his eyes off Emmett. "It's fine," he grits out between clenched teeth. "I've had worse."_

_"_ _Aren't you just the warrior," Emmett jabs sarcastically._

_"_ _Emmett!" Jasper chastises._

_"_ _You've got something to say, then just say it." Ben tries to step forward, but I'm blocking his path._

_I feel the heat of Emmett's body as he moves closer. "Fine."_

_Edward grabs my arm, pulling me away and pushing me behind him in one fluid motion. "Watch it," he growls looking between them._

_"_ _Okay, cool it," Jasper interrupts, pushing his way between Ben and Emmett. "Ben, take a walk. Emmett and Edward have some things they need to work out."_

_Maneuvering out from behind Edward, I walk over and grab Ben's arm. "Come on. Let's get you some ice." He silently glares for a bit before finally allowing me to drag him away._

_Leading Ben away from the courts, I look back to see Edward and Emmett in the midst of a heated conversation. Jasper is standing in the middle no doubt mediating whatever they are saying._

_"_ _I hope they don't kill each other."_

_"_ _As far as I'm concerned, Edward can knock him the fuck out," Ben growls, still trying to stop his nose from bleeding._

_"_ _Well then, killer, it's a good thing that you're coming with me," I grumble, not wanting things to get any worse._

_Amazingly, by the time we returned, things appeared to be resolved, all three talking and smiling. Reaching the court, Emmett steps towards Ben with an outreached hand._

_"_ _Sorry, man."_

_Ben looks at him for a moment, before grabbing it in a firm shake. "We good?"_

_"_ _We're good," Emmett confirms._

_"_ _I'm starving, let's go find some food," Edward announces walking up to them._

_"_ _Fantastic. A good fight always makes me hungry," Ben jests with a smirk._

_I stand mouth agape watching as the three of them head back towards the street._

_"_ _Don't question it," Jasper says, walking over to me. "It's how we roll."_

_Shaking my head, I smile and follow. "Boys."_

* * *

Since that day, Emmett and Ben have become fast friends, which ended up being crucial when it came to dealing with Rose's reaction. She struggled to let things go the most, especially with Edward and Ben. For months, she refused to give them a break, making things incredibly awkward for everyone. Finally, with the help of Emmett, Edward orchestrated a meeting to hash things out. I don't know the details of what went down. All I know is that somehow they worked out a truce. Rose will never ever be their biggest fans, but at least she's finally accepted that Edward and Ben are a permanent part of my life and for that, I am thankful.

"How are you feeling?" Alice asks interrupting my internal musings.

"Good. Nervous, but good."

"You're going to knock them dead." She smiles, bumping me with her hip. I smile and bump her back, happy and grateful that she's coming today.

Alice was surprisingly the most hurt by the ordeal, saddened that I didn't reach out to her. I guess in my mind, I thought she would understand my need to follow my instinct. However, I soon realized that her hurt didn't come from the choices I made, but my lack of trust in her.

* * *

_Taking a calming breath, I take the two glasses of wine and walk back into the living room to where Alice is sitting stiffly on the couch._

_"_ _Here you go," I mutter, handing her the glass without making eye contact afraid that the emotions reflected in her eyes will be my undoing._

_"_ _Thanks," she whispers with a shaky voice._

_The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. My stomach twists and turns waiting for the tension to break. Ever since Alice said that we needed to talk, I'd been dreading this moment. In many respects, Rose is easier to deal with when it comes to these types of conversations. She yells, I listen, we find a middle ground, and then we are good. Alice likes to analyze things, and this time, I don't know if I have any good answers to give her._

_"_ _You're like my sister," Alice says, taking the first step. "I would tell you anything."_

_"_ _I know."_

_"_ _Do you? Because I thought that went both ways. I thought you knew that you could trust me."_

_Flinching at the sharp edge of her tone, I snap my head up to look at her. "I do trust you."_

_Her eyes fill with tears, the sight pinching my heart further. "Then why couldn't you just tell me? I would have helped. I could have been there for you."_

_A sorrowful sigh escapes my lips, my heart pounding with the fear that she will never forgive me. "Alice, I promise it wasn't like that. I was going ninety miles a minute trying to figure out what to do next. Everything I believed was turned upside down, and then when I found out about Edward and Ben…well their survival_ and mine _depended upon keeping their secret. I had no choice."_

_"_ _You always have a choice, Bella," she bites out, grasping her glass tightly._

_"_ _It's wasn't that easy, Al." My voice cracks as I struggle to control my own tears._

_I don't know what to say. I understand why she is upset, but I can't honestly say that I would have done anything differently. Still, that confession won't help, and in truth, it only makes me feel worse. I just hope that I can convince her that I never wanted to hurt her._

_"_ _I'm hurt that you didn't trust me first."_

_I hesitate confused by her choice of words. "I'm not sure I'm following."_

_Alice exhales and sets her glass on the coffee table in front of her. "I'm not a cop. I'm the only one who didn't have someone to report to that cared about your situation. Rose, Emmett, and Jasper all would have had a conflict of interest. They would have been obligated to tell someone else the truth. But not me."_

_"_ _Are you telling me that you would have been willing to keep that kind of secret from your husband?" Alice looks down quickly. She and I both know that would have been impossible. "How could I put you in that position? I love you but this was one situation I couldn't share. No matter how much I trust you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted that, and I want more than anything to find a way to move past this."_

_The silence descends again, both of us taking an awkward sip of wine to fill the space. "I want to ask you to promise not to do it again." Her quiet voice reverberates through the room._

_"_ _I hope I never have to, but I can't promise you that, not with what I do. And not when it comes to Ben and what he does."_

_"_ _What about Edward?"_

_"_ _What about him?" I ask, confused._

_"_ _Is he still going to…you know, work undercover?"_

_"_ _Oh. No, I don't think so. He says that he's done."_

_"_ _So you won't have to lie for him anymore," she states, contemplating the new development. "What is he going to do instead?"_

_"_ _He's still trying to figure that out," I say quickly, not wanting the conversation to veer too much off topic. Right now, all I care about is how she feels. "Are we going to be okay?" I ask bluntly._

_"_ _We will be," she utters unconvincingly._

_"_ _You're my best friend. I don't want to lose that. Tell me what to do to make it up to you."_

_"_ _I honestly don't know," she says with a weary shrug. "This is new territory."_

_I set my glass down and grab her hand, the tears finally falling. "I'm sorry."_

_She looks up, her own tears streaming down her face. Unexpectedly, she wraps her arms around me. "I miss my friend," she whispers._

_"_ _I'm here," I declare holding her tighter. "I'm here."_

_"_ _Just be my friend. That's all I need."_

_"_ _I promise." We may not have solved everything tonight, but the heavy weight that was suffocating me earlier has finally lifted. We will be okay. She is after all my Alice._

* * *

The most difficult aspect of this past year were the times when we couldn't just hang out together, the strain between everyone too great. I sometimes felt like I was in the middle of a divorce, having to choose whom I invited to the same events and making sure not to focus on one person over another. Nowadays it's better, and standing here surrounded by everyone I love, I feel like we're finally at a point where we can live our lives together again, which brings us to our trip today.

A month ago, I received a call from the Captain of Seattle's police department letting me know that they wanted to celebrate my dad's distinguished career by commemorating a new park in his name. The dedication is a significant statement by the Seattle Police Department. It not only recognizes him for the hero that he was but also shows that they acknowledge their mistake of ever doubting him.

"Thank God the weather is working with us. I still think we're cutting this too close," Emmett states, adjusting a bag on his shoulder.

"Bella had court, remember," Edward replies. "This was the earliest we could leave."

"And Mike was an ass to make you go," Rose grumbles.

"All I care about is that I'm still able to make it," I assert. "The Chief will have cars waiting when we arrive to take us right to the ceremony. He also booked us rooms at the hotel that the party is being held afterward."

"So we're all getting drunk tonight then?" Ben quips. "In memoriam of course," he adds quickly after I shoot him a look.

"Of course," I jibe back. In truth, I know Charlie would have joined right in if he could.

After settling into my seat, Edward grabs my hand to stop me from picking at my clothes and the seat nervously. When the Captain called about the ceremony, he also asked me to give a speech. He said he couldn't think of anyone else that my father would want to talk on his behalf. I saw this as a second chance to say everything I wanted to say at his funeral but frustratingly couldn't find the strength or the words at the time to express it. This is my opportunity to ensure that everyone knows how amazing my dad was and how much of a difference he made in this world. It will be the sendoff he deserved to have last year.

"Stop worrying," Edward whispers leaning over. "You're going to be great."

"I can do this," I confirm, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. I want to make my dad proud.

The hour and a half flight goes quickly and before I know it the plane lands. Thankfully, I don't have much time to mentally torture myself between our mad dash to the waiting cars and the park. Arriving just in time, the Chief rushes over and drags me off to meet all of Seattle's law enforcement administration. In a blur of introductions and handshakes, I meet dozens of people, most of whom I won't remember later, each expressing their sympathy and enthusiasm about the ceremony. Although not next to me, I can sense Edward nearby, watching for any sign that I need him. All too soon, the Chief hustles me onto the stage to start.

Looking at the crowd, I'm overwhelmed by the hundreds of people who came out to honor my dad. Grabbing the wooden podium in front of me, I take a breath and try to calm my shaking legs. Glimpsing towards the front row, Edward catches my eye and smiles, mouthing the words I love you and giving me a supportive nod. Exhaling, I straighten my notes and gaze out into the audience.

"Life is not about the destination, but the journey you take. That was one of my dad's favorite sayings, yet I never really understood the power of it until I lost him."

I look over at his picture on my right to gather my thoughts, remembering all of the advice my dad gave me, whether I wanted it or not. I'd give anything for him to give me advice again.

"When I was eleven, I lost my mom to cancer and at first, I was afraid that my whole world would end, but my dad proved to me that life goes on. He made everything better, and for all intent and purpose, was my best friend. Even though he desperately missed my mom, he continued to live vibrantly, making my life safe and fun. Back then, I never saw him struggle. Now I realize that he must have kept it hidden for my benefit. My father was incredibly strong and courageous."

A round of applause interrupts me. Once again my eyes drift over to Edward, his encouraging smile giving me the strength to continue.

"My dad was my hero. His stories, gestures, and big heart made the world bright and shiny. I think he made it his mission to make sure that my view of the world didn't darken. His stories and weekend escapades are some of my best memories. His infectious imagination made even the most mundane objects wondrous and amazing. A dark tunnel became a mysterious porthole, and a piece of trash transformed into a long-lost treasure with the wind its escort on an epic journey. Life was always an exciting adventure when he was around. I never knew what to expect and I loved it."

I can't stop a lone tear from rolling down my cheek, looking again towards his picture. "The world became duller after he died."

The silence of the audience is deafening. I clear my throat, reminding myself not to get lost in the past. I don't want this day to be about grief and sadness. "I admit I was lost for a while. I forgot for a moment who I was and what he wanted for me. The truth is my dad wanted my life to be extraordinary. My dad wanted all of our lives to be extraordinary."

Applause erupts again. "That is why on the day that the city is honoring the memory of my father and his career, by dedicating this beautiful park in his name, I want to also announce that with the help of the Cullen Foundation," I gesture towards Edward, "We are starting a program to offer a positive alternative for girls living on the streets."

I pause, waiting as another wave of applause dies down. "The last case my dad worked on became his passion. He wanted to find justice for the girls that everyone else seemed to forget. With this program, I intend to ensure that we never forget about them again. With today's announcement, I'm asking everyone to stay tuned and help me build my father's legacy. I will need all of you and your support to make this happen." The response of the crowd makes me smile.

Turning, I acknowledge the other individuals on the stage. "Thank you, Chief Taylor, for making this day happen. I'm honored and know that my father would love this." Looking back at his picture, I smile. "I love you, Dad." The crowd stands in an ovation and watches as I cut the official red ribbon.

Well-wishers and people wanting to know more about the organization I mentioned quickly swarm me as soon as the ceremony is over. Although I hate the spotlight, I feel good about my father's memory living on just as I hoped.

Edward elbows his way through the crowd around me and swiftly pulls me into his arms. "You did great, baby. Your dad would be proud."

"Thanks. I'm glad it's over," I exhale, shaking out my shoulders subtly trying to get some air to my sweaty underarms.

"Justice, you make speeches all the time in court. This should be old hat for you," Ben laughs watching me.

"Don't laugh, jerk." I punch his shoulder. "Court is different. I  _hate_  talking in front of crowds."

"Well, you wouldn't know it. You did great, Bella," Emmett remarks, saddling up next to Ben.

"Your dad is smiling down at you, I know it," Alice adds, giving me a tight hug.

"That's a fact," Rose agrees, holding onto Emmett's hand. "It was a beautiful speech and a well-deserved recognition."

I look around the peaceful park, full of trees and benches. "It really was. He would have loved it here."

"Okay, gang," Emmett booms watching the crowd start to dissipate. "I think it's time to get this party started."

"For Charlie!" Jasper says with a smile.

"For Charlie." We shout simultaneously.

Walking into the ballroom, I'm taken aback. The room is beautiful with early evening sunlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, which provide a stunning view of the city. I reach out for Edward as my breath hitches when I see that they have fishing gear and Mariners' memorabilia scattered throughout the room. The tables are decorated in traditional Mariner's team colors and vases filled with baseballs to anchor floral centerpieces. It is an impeccable tribute to a man who was not big on fancy events.

"Wow! This is amazing," Edward whispers.

Ben stands next to me, his eyes taking in the scene. "I wish I had known your dad. From the looks of this room, we would have gotten along great."

"I think you would have too."

There is a DJ booth in the corner, playing a seventies disco hit. Just then the song changes to Y.M.C.A., someone must have told him that my dad was a sucker for group dances.

"Aww yeah," Emmett draws out dancing his way towards the front of the group. "Time to get our groove on." He quickly pulls Rose with him, who latches onto Alice, who, of course, grabs Jasper. Ben laughs and follows the chain willingly.

Edward grimaces. Unlike my dad, he is not a fan of silly dances. Undeterred by his sour face, I grab his hand. "Hey, if you can't beat them, join them." I smile pulling him with me onto the dance floor.

The evening was a joyful celebration of my father's life just as he would have wanted it. When I wasn't dancing with Edward and my friends, my dad's law enforcement family were telling me stories of their time together and important cases that he solved. Alice is right, my Dad is most certainly shining down on us.

It was a perfect night.

* * *

Edward stands stoically allowing me a quiet moment to gaze upon my father's grave. The air is thick with moisture making the early morning dew linger around us. Wrapping my sweater around my body, I lean into Edward's warmth. Before we head back to San Francisco, I wanted one last visit with my dad.

"He wanted me to have a good life."

"He did," Edward confirms, squeezing my shoulder.

"I'm going to have a good life," I state confidently. "I won't forget again."

"And I won't let you," he proclaims.

We stand quietly for several more minutes, a peace washing over me. "Love you, Dad." Blowing one last kiss, I start walking away but stop when Edward pulls on my hand.

"I need a minute."

"Sure," I whisper.

"Alone," he clarifies, his eyes pleading for understanding without questioning the request.

"Oh, okay."

I move over to sit on a bench several feet away and watch as he walks back to my father's grave with a purpose. With his hands in his pockets, he talks quietly for several minutes before patting the headstone and turning towards me.

"Am I allowed to ask what that was about?" I question when he sits down next to me.

Edward looks at me with a wistful smile. "Unfinished business." My eyebrow raises in question, hoping that he'll clarify on his own. "The last conversation we had was pretty bad."

"When you told him that you were leaving," I quietly surmise.

"Yeah. To say he was angry doesn't give justice to it."

"I can imagine."

Edward smirks again. "He told me that I'd regret it. Whatever it was that was taking me away, he said I'd change my mind. He just hoped for both our sakes that it wouldn't be too late." Edward grabs my hand, staring into my eyes. "Like everything else, he was right. I just thank God every day that I wasn't too late. My life is nothing without you in it."

"I feel the same way." I pull our entwined hands closer. "Did you say everything you needed to say?"

His eyes drift towards the grave. "I asked him to forgive me, and I promised that I'd never let you down again."

"He would have forgiven you," I affirm knowingly. "He would have made you grovel, but he would have welcomed you back. That's who he was." The thought of his forgiving heart makes me smile.

Edward leans over to kiss my hair. "I hope you're right. Especially considering—" he closes his mouth before he finishes the thought, almost as if he hadn't realized that he was verbalizing it aloud.

"Especially," I lead, wanting him to continue.

Standing, he pulls me up with him. "Nothing," he grumbles.

"You don't have 'nothing' face. Come on, no more secrets, remember."

"Sorry, but for now it stays between your dad and me." Looking down at our hands, he rubs my fingers. "Don't worry though, you'll know soon enough." Leaning over, he kisses me deeply.

"No fair trying to distract me," I murmur breathlessly, frowning.

"All's fair in love and war, baby."

"And what is this?" I ask mischievously, tugging on his jacket.

"Hmmm. I'm not sure, kiss me again and then I should be able to tell you."

"Okay," I draw out. "But purely for clarification purposes."

"Of course," he says sternly, although his lips curl into a smile.

Standing on my toes, I pour all of my emotions into the kiss and from the powerful sensations I'm experiencing in return, I would say that Edward is doing the same.

"Love, Bella. It's all love."

"Yeah it is." I walk my fingers up his chest. "So, can you tell me now?"

"You're incorrigible," he laughs, taking my hand to walk us back to the rental car.

"Hey, you slipped up not me. Don't forget, I'm a prosecutor. I can get it out of you."

"Undercover agent," he retorts. "I don't break easily."

"This isn't over, mister."

"Come on, Ms. Swan, we're going to miss our flight."

Laughing, I look back one last time, finally believing that life does indeed go on, just as it should.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one will be posting shortly. See you soon. :)


End file.
